And So The Journey Begins
by The Italian Rose
Summary: Guinevere has a lot going for her; a well-paying job, a loving fiancé and a large inheritance, or so she thought. When Daniel breaks her heart, she retreats to a small villa on the west coast of Italy, where she rediscovers the world of J.R. Tolkien- Middle Earth. What she didn't count on was tumbling head-first into unknown lands of the novel itself. [Pairing: AragornxOC]
1. Prologue: The Italian Sun

**A/N: Hi everyone! So in short, I got into an argument with my family and turned the TV on to watch the news and came across this 'Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers'. I'd seen a scene accidentally a long time ago but never bothered to watch it. Anyways, I thought- why not? So I watched the second half of the movie that was still running. The following week I watched the next film 'Return of the King' and justifiably fell in love with Tolkien's works. This story just popped into my mind so obviously it _had _to be written down.**

**I haven't read the books yet (I do intend to though) so this is completely based on the film. The main plot changes start at the 'Two Towers' section since I only just managed to watch 'Fellowship of the Ring'. I hope you enjoy this. Please leave reviews; I'm a fairly new writer so of course, I'm nervous about this. Enjoy! Satiné**

**_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien. I own nothing._  
**

Prologue

Thunder lit the skies and droplets of rain pelted the tar pavement of New York City. The figure hunched over the desk sighed as she turned around to assess the state of her windowsill. Her slight dismay at the loss of the earthy scent of damp soil was forgotten as she returned to her previous position from the now closed window. The candle perched precariously on the edge of the desk flickered instantly. Her doe brown eyes were lost in the flickering flame as a drop of wax slid down the candle body to reside in the holder beneath. Colours of red, orange and yellow danced in abandonment as the wick continued to burn throughout the night. Her interest in it was even at first minimal and now was completely non-existent as she returned her attention of more important matters. With the power out, Guinevere had resorted to finally lighting the candles that were littered around the apartment as decorative pieces. The one on the mantelpiece in the lounge had burnt out long ago and this was her final source of light.

She continued to read the reviews for the new application, wearily rubbing her eyes and turning to her phone which read in clear display 11:45. With the night sky fallen, she was amazed that the city had not yet slept. There were still the honks of car horns, the bustling of people and the stores still open as though it were eleven-thirty in the morning. Her stubborn heart had prevailed over her will to succumb to sleep. Perhaps it was time she had. Guinevere looked over in the direction of her bed longingly. Her gaze shifted and soon was transfixed on the down-turned photo frame as her heart broke all over again.

Finally giving in to her curiosity, Guinevere sat on the edge of the bed. The candlelight was still dimly lighting her bedroom as she picked up the frame. The photograph held two smiling lovers embraced in each other's arms in a foreign country. What struck her even more was the woman's left hand, her ring finger to be precise- it was decorated with a stunning white gold band that twisted like a snake to form a small circle which held a yellow-tinted diamond. The ring was hers, as was the finger but her lover was not. Her body once again wracked in heaving sobs much like the last few evenings were spent. She clutched the frame in her hands and held it to her chest. She could've swore she'd heard her fragile heart crack and shatter into a thousand pieces as she drifted her gaze over his face. The brilliant smile with two rows of perfect white teeth, the sea-green orbs that stared into the camera lens, the somewhat muscular stature and the features so handsome. She clutched, not so much at the frame, but the memories that they'd made.

As she lay on the edge of the bed with the photograph, her tired body gave in to her demands and sleep came over her at last giving her peace.

"Hi Dad." She greeted into the speaker. Her dad had a habit of calling her at ungodly hours of the morning. Actually, not so much, only on Saturdays which was at least once a month.

"Hi honey. How are you?" His voice was empathic.

"Fine…just fine. You?"

"Great. I'm going to Andy's for a barbeque this afternoon so I thought I'd call you beforehand. And are you sure you're right? 'Cause I can always come up there and whip his butt, if need be."

She let out a small tinkling laugh, contrary to how she'd been feeling for the past week. "No thanks Dad. I just want to forget it ever happened. Daddy can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Was I not enough? Was I not good enough? I did the best I could…" Tears began to prick at her eyes again.

"No no honey. You did great. You'd be a wonderful wife Evie. Just like your mother. One day you're going to find a guy who'll go to the ends of the earth for you and love you like you should be. You're going to be queen of his heart, Evie. You are."

"Thanks Dad." She sighed, wishing her father was here "Have you had breakfast?" The line went silent "Dad?"

"Sorry hon. I forgot."

Guinevere groaned "Dad I can't have you getting sick on me again. I…I need you."

"I know darling. I'm sorry. I'm making some toast right now."

"And did you take your medicine?" And again silence followed.

Guinevere almost growled in frustrated "Dad, either you start taking care of yourself more or I'm going to pack everything up and move back to Washington." She threatened.

"I'm sorry Evie. I'll take care of myself more. But don't move back down here 'kay? Listen I have to run. Drew is tugging on my pants for a walk and this is my favourite pair. So I can't have them covered in slobber. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you Evie."

"Alright. Tell Andy and Mel I said hi. Yeah we'll talk tomorrow. Love you too." She hit the 'end call' button on her Blackberry and sighed leaning over the counter. Sometimes she got tired of all 'this'; she wanted to run away to a faraway land. But then reality took hold. And that was that she had a work presentation tomorrow at ten, reality was she had a tennis meet-up with some friends.

"Laura, I'm just so lost…I loved him. I thought I had a future with him, a happy one." "I know Guinevere but think about it, he turned out to be such a bas-bad guy. What would've happened if you'd gone through with the wedding? Maybe you just need some more time."

"I'm getting sick of all this. I feel like I'm suffocated in this city. I don't know what's wrong with me…" "

Maybe you just need some time out."

Guinevere looked aimlessly at her the red and white checker cloth. She stirred her tea and looked out over the remarkable city view. Laura sighed as her phone rang "I'm sorry." It was faint but Guinevere heard it. Still she did not acknowledge it. After talking a few moments on the phone she disconnected and turned to her friend. "I'm sorry I have to run but sleep on it. Maybe you just need to get away from all the chaos for a bit." She laid a hand on Guinevere's shoulder before walking away.

"Maybe." Guinevere hoarsely whispered to herself. It was then that she noticed the thirty dollar bill placed under Laura's plate.

A week later...

Vines tangled haphazardly over the firmly planted stakes and the grapes bathed in the Tuscan sun while a wall with crisscrossed wood grew a beautiful selection of pink roses that thrived and bloomed in the Italian climate. The lush green mountains were vaguely shadowed in the distance as the peaks glittered. There was very little to disturb Guinevere as she looked out over the vineyard. The walls were a peculiar mustard colour with some portions of the villa left unpainted so as to reveal the stone walls. The roof or rooves were immaculately tiled and large double doors made of carved oak wood. Complete with Victorian lamps and a spacious but comfortable interior furnished with a healthy amount of modern furniture and hints of Medieval, it was the solitude that Guinevere sought.

Guinevere had been both touched and thrilled beyond means when her uncle had put some property including the Italian villa in her name along with a generous inheritance upon her graduation from Harvard. Amongst her hard work in gaining entry into the higher circles to assist her in business, the villa was all but forgotten until recently.

After she'd had coffee with Laura, Guinevere was determined to do as her friend/colleague had suggested- to get away. As she contemplated her choices, she'd stumbled upon some legal documents tucked away safely in a briefcase. Amongst them was the deed to the villa. Absolutely ecstatic with her newly re-found discovery, she'd booked the first flight to Italy and then drove a scenic and surprisingly relaxing drive into the Apennine Mountains of Tuscany.

And so here she sat, curled up into a plush throwaway she'd found in the corner of a sofa, on the window-seat that overlooked the property with a copy of J R. Tolkien's masterpiece, _Lord of the Rings_. She'd found it in drawer of her childhood room's bedside table and decided to reread it. Guinevere was enchanted. The characters, the world, the hope, the eternal love…it all contributed to one single aspect: good over bad. A light in a tunnel of darkness. How she longed for it. A concealed desire that she could not forgo nor could she attempt to embrace it. It hung in balance.

By evening, she'd finally managed to tear herself away from her childhood novel and endeavoured to cook a pizza. It was something that she'd loved doing with her aunt when they'd trip to Italy. Her mother was Italian and was desperate to pass on her love of the culture onto her only child, her daughter- Guinevere. Treasuring the memories, she continued to knead the dough. The past week or so had done well in helping her forget her betraying fiancé. It pained her to think of it and she'd promised herself to shed no more tears over such an imbecile. Quickly consuming dinner, Guinevere returned to her abandoned book. She once again was immersed in the world of elves and brave men.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other notes: (1) Follows the movie. (2) It may seem slow but the real changes begin when Boromir dies.


	2. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**A/N: I like to write up a few chapters and post them together when I first publish a story. I think that it gives more depth to the reader so they can decide whether they truly like it or not. I'm not sure that updates will be regular since school starts again but I'll do my best. Please leave reviews! They are always appreciated. So here is chapter 2 of 'And So My Journey Begins'. Enjoy! ****Satiné**

_**Disclaimer: ******__Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien. I own nothing._

And So My Journey Begins...

_Chapter 1: The Beginning_

A soft moan escaped her lips as the lady attempted to turn onto her non-bruised side. It had been quite a fall although she seemed to remember nothing of it. Guinevere scrambled to the nearest tree she could see in her limited vision and braced herself against it. She slowly managed to keep herself upright and then took the time to look around her.

There was nothing. Dark forestry surrounded every inch of visible ground and the farthest she could see with her eye was an ominous clearing in the distance. Her disorientation had now left her be. Guinevere recovered her small bag and dug through the contents. The pouch was quite small and light with brown fake leather edgework and creamy white coloured fabric patterned with pink and other similar colours. She found her Blackberry- which probably was of no use- and some spare change. She disregarded the pot of lip balm, ointment, vest-top, scarf and hair accessories. To her immediate satisfaction and relief, there was also some spare packets of food (a power bar and some candy). Content with her findings, Guinevere finally pushed on to explore the depths of the forest whilst trying to find a way out of the thick wilderness.

Her attire while enormously strange from her usual style was something that she was very thankful for. She'd run out of slacks for work and ended up using the black elastic-waistband bottoms from her martial arts uniform. Her top was white with slightly puff sleeves and gold embroidered detail around the hem and neckline. She'd been at a loss as to why she was wearing runners but nevertheless it made for easy travel. The black ribbed cardigan over her shoulders did well in keeping her from the timely cold breeze. Why she'd chosen to wear something like it, even she couldn't remember but Guinevere was never one for arguing the past.

Fatigue had overcome her as Guinevere trekked further and further into the forest. She'd already encountered a trio of large, disgustingly ugly monsters and by the width of a hair, escaped death. Of course, with a certain lack of weapons, she found herself quite at a loss as to how she could protect herself against them. Her martial arts training would only take her so far. Her feet now had lost their rhythm and shuffled while the soles of her feet were painfully rubbed raw and sore to the bone. Relief flooded through her veins as she spotted some sort of a settlement in the distance. The camp was given way by a fire that had been lit presumably for warmth and heat. Now all that remained was for her luck to exceed her just a bit further so that she wouldn't stumble upon an encampment of monsters. Sounds were emitted from the camp sounded foreign. Very cautiously, Guinevere observed the sight before her. The trees had fallen and Goblin-like creatures, except much larger, were plaguing the area. While the rest of the forest while dark was lush, this area was barren of growth and housed death. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw a few men and women who looked like slaves to the monsters were beat harshly. The two children in the group screamed for their parents as the mother shrieked and the father writhed in agony. They were under-nourished and clothed in well-worn rags. She put her fist in her mouth to stop from crying as the children were torn apart from their mothers.

Guinevere retreated further from the encampment and sprinted in the first direction she could fathom. She had lost all sense of direction and was now simply fleeing from the atrocious sight. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a loud roar from behind her. Without contemplating if the monster was following her, she ran even harder until she felt that she'd lost them. The area around her was eerie which made her skin crawl and anticipation surged through her veins in simple fear. Her chocolaty eyes widened and her mouth became dry. Her lips moved to for the word 'no' but no sound escaped them. Her fingers tingled and she very near froze. The monsters she'd seen in the encampment had followed her and were now going to kill her. The three began to swing their swords like machetes and the blade glistened in the moonlight. As even more darkness engulfed the forest, she was left with nothing but the shining blades and the silhouette of the monsters to guide her attacks. With no blade to assist her, her attacks were futile. She'd managed to slice one's blade into itself but the other two were relentless and eventually her body began to betray her as they pushed her around like a rag doll.

Whatever happened next happened in slow motion and she'd had a hard time believing it. An arrow stabbed the monster that was about to throw her and another two flew through the sky to effectively kill the other two orcs. When her adrenaline rush left her, she collapsed in exhaustion. She felt a few presences loom near her. She felt herself lifted up and while she tried to resist in fear that the monsters had gotten her, Guinevere was too weak so she let herself be taken into the land of sleep hoping to find some relief from her ordeal and perhaps never to see the next sunrise as with it, it would bring her inevitable torture and eventual death in the hands of this monsters.

Sunlight fell across her face causing her to squint as she awoke. She was no longer in someone's arms but rather she lay on a fluffy mattress with gold patterned sheets swallowing her small figure. Multiple archways causes light to flow in and lush green trees were placed outside the bedroom. The armoire and side tables were fashioned of beautiful rose wood with intricate designs boasting of skill. Her purse was safely on the side table. She gently managed to sit herself up and looked around. A standing wood candelabra was on either side with dainty lit candles and small points of green plants were hung from the ceiling. Her breath caught as she stared at her vividly beautiful surroundings.

She shakily stood and wrapped a pink silk shawl around herself. Guinevere looked out to the beautiful vision that she witnessed. Afar there was a crystalline waterfall with clear waters rushing into a river that ran through the…city? The stunning sunrise was pure and untamed, the sunlight was filtered through the very frequent archways of her bedroom. The architecture of the buildings featured small intricate designs and carved stoneworks. Its elegance and sophistication was superior to any other place she'd ever seen. Thin railings separated the stoned corridors from the mountainous drop and a labyrinth of stairs connect them. The masonry and patterns boasted of skill and perfection.

"I see you are awake my lady." Her awe-struck countenance changed to one of surprise and caution.

"I am." She replied softly to the young man in front of her.

His 'beauty' was radiant. He had an ethereal glow about him framing his smooth pale skin and his eyes resembled deep pools of faded sapphire. His long straight hair was almost as pale as his skin with light tinges of blonde. They shone vividly in the sunlight. "How are you feeling my lady?"

She stuttered "I-I'm fine…I think. Where am I?"

"Rivendell, an elven realm at the foot of the Misty Mountains."

Her fingers massaged her temple trying to pull herself out of this supposed fantasy "Are you ill my lady? Shall I send for Lord Elrond?"  
"No, no. Please don't…don't trouble him. I'm fine, It's just…I'm not familiar with this place."

His brow scrunched in confusion "How can you live in Middle Earth and not have heard of Rivendell? Did you journey here from the far north?"

"No…I…I don't know!" She cried frantically perching herself on the edge of her bed, close to tears. "I-I don't know! I don't remember! I was at home asleep and the next thing I know I'm in the middle of a forest!"

He put a hand on her shoulder to calm her "Calm yourself my lady. Perhaps we should start with introductions. I am Legolas of the Mirkwood realm."

"I'm Guinevere. Guinevere…Archer."

"You are from the race of men are you not?"

She gaped at him wide-eyed "I-I think so. Why, are you not?"

He gave her a funny look "I am an elf my lady."

"An elf…" She murmured to herself. _The ears, I should've guessed._

She turned to her companion hastily, "What would you say if I told you that I'm not from your world?"

He pondered his answer for a moment "It would seem reasonable to assume such, Lady Guinevere. Lord Elrond seems to be of the same opinion."

"What happened? After, I mean? I was attack by some monsters in the forest. They were killed and next thing I know, I'm in…Rivendell."

Legolas put a warm hand on her own which were clenched in her lap "They were orcs Lady Guinevere. They are servants of the dark forces in Mordor. Long have they terrorized our people and burnt our homes. To answer your second question, I was called to Rivendell on a matter of urgent business. I along with three of my companions- all elves- were journeying here when we heard a scream. We followed the sounds and happened upon you, luckily before anything drastic occurred. We slaughtered the orcs and then carried you to Rivendell by horse."

"I'm grateful then for your help. Thank you."

"You are most welcome Lady Guinevere but I urge you to think nothing of it. Now perhaps, we should inform Lord Elrond of your awakening. I know that he has been quite anxious to speak to you."

She nodded hesitantly, taking his proffered hand. They walked side by side to this 'Lord Elrond's study.

The walls were made of stone with carved designs no doubt with some tale to tell of their own. Some portions were hollowed with shelves of leather-bound journals and books. Candles were perched on stands throughout the library as it seemed. Wood tables were occupied with quills, inkwells and parchment with elegant calligraphy scrawled on them. Tall pillars stood providing them shelter from an impending rain.

Lord Elrond stood by the largest shelf with a red leather covered book. His appearance was unmistakably elf-like. His face was pale like Legolas' although a little more drawn and his brow crinkled as he read the text he held. His features were sharp and commanding. They spoke of years of experience and wisdom. "Lord Elrond, it seems our unexpected guest suddenly awoke early this morn." Legolas said. His voice reminded her of the tinkling of chimes and bells. Lord Elrond turned away from his book and looked up at them. "My lady. I see you have at last risen. You look radiant and the colour has returned to your skin. I am glad to see that your rest has done you good."

"Thank you." –What else could she say…?

"Might I ask what caused you to come across Prince Legolas' path?"

"I'm not sure I can answer you sir. I fell asleep in my bed like any other night and sometime during the night I woke up and found myself in a forest. I saw light, assumed it was a campfire and went to it. These…monsters were there. Orcs, I think Prince Legolas mentioned. They had a camp there with some people being tortured. I ran as far away as I could but three somehow heard me and followed me. I managed to kill one but I was unarmed and I was overpowered by the remaining ones. Prince Legolas and his men…elven companions came to my aid before any harm could be done."

Lord Elrond nodded in understanding "I can tell you are afraid my lady. Please do not be Lady…"  
Guinevere felt more like herself when she face-palmed herself much to the amusement of the two elves in the room. "Guinevere Archer, sir. That's my name. You can just call me Guinevere."

"Well…Guinevere. I was wondering whether I would be able to convince you to attend a meeting that is to take place soon. There are still members that are yet to arrive but the council is set three eves from now. At the seventh hour."

She bit her lip in thought "I'd be honoured." The truthfulness in her eyes was enough for Lord Elrond to like her immediately.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other notes: (1) Follows the movie. (2) It may seem slow but the real changes begin when Boromir dies. (3) Guinevere Archer is not meant to be a Mary Sue.


	3. Chapter 2: Residing in Rivendell

**A/N: Third and final installment for today. Hopefully I've edited out any mistakes. Please leave reviews and finally, enjoy! ****Satiné**

_**Disclaimer: ******__Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien. I own nothing._

And So My Journey Begins...

_Chapter 2: Residing in Rivendell_

The sun was rising with tones of fiery oranges and sky blues breaking through the blanket of darkness that had fallen upon Rivendell. Guinevere had slept for quite a while considering that she never slept well far from home. An elven maid had been kind enough to draw her a warm bath. The water had rose petals floating gently on top and a flurry of beautiful scents invaded her nostrils. She'd taken her time soak in the water, relishing the warm cleansing feeling that rushed through her veins. All the grit and dirt that she'd collected had been washed away and she could've sworn that her skin had also become softer and the few blemishes that did exist were completely gone.

Guinevere picked up a white silken robe that flowed to her ankles. She donned it and then ventured into her bedroom. Her eyes were drawn to a forest green gown with golden lining. The neckline was squared which was rare for elven gowns and its comfortable material hugged her hips before slowly forms a thin bell shape around her ankles. The sleeves, probably the courtesy of Lord Elrond, were not too large which would've weighed her down. The purple and white dainty bracelet that she'd worn when she'd arrived was on the side table which she donned again. It was a miracle that it hadn't snagged something or broken. At least she'd managed to French Manicure her nails…first world problems.

Her silver jewellery strangely enough complimented the gold hems of the dress. A two teardrop diamonds, the top smaller than the one connected below it, were hung around her neck on an untarnished silver chain. She found a small pair of earrings and anklets, a most gracious gift from Lord Elrond himself. When she looked into the mirror, she didn't recognise herself. Her clothes were too elegant…too royal; her jewellery complimented her though it did not attune to these…times and her hair was pinned half up and half down. _Thank god for hair pins._

Now fully dressed, she ventured out of her room and onto the walkways. She passed a few elves that eyed her, whether in approval or disapproval she could not determine. Her next problem consisted of finding the destination where breakfast would be held…or made. Occupied in her thoughts, Guinevere didn't notice someone else in her path. She bumped into them unceremoniously and landed on the ground. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." She dusted herself off, blushing in embarrassment. She looked into the person's eyes- a combination of heather grey and sky blue. "My lady, I do believe that I was at fault. No apology is necessary. However might I be graced with your name?" She examined him curiously. He was an elderly man with wrinkled skin but a youthful demeanour. His eyes twinkled with both mischief and wisdom. He was clad in a grey cloak that was toned similar to his eyes. His hair was long and greyed. "Guinevere Archer Mr…?" "Gandalf the Grey at your service my lady." "Well Mr Gandalf…" He cut her off "Just Gandalf." She smiled at him brightly, she enjoyed his spritely behaviour though he was dressed peculiarly "Perhaps you can help me Gandalf. I am trying to find breakfast and I seem to have lost my way." Gandalf nodded as though he'd made a fantastic discovery.

"Exactly where I am headed Lady Guinevere."

This time it was she who interrupted him "Just Guinevere."

He smiled at her spritely "Well _Guinevere _I'll be more than happy to escort a bright lady like yourself to the meal; however I am also charged with the responsibility of a dear friend. Would you mind if we also collect him?"

She shook her head "Not at all."

Gandalf the Grey couldn't help the secretive smile that graced his worn lips as he observed the maiden walking alongside him. Though perhaps she didn't realise it, Lady Guinevere had a mysterious and charming aura about her. A few elves had also been eyeing her for this very reason. She was indeed very beautiful. Her beauty wasn't encased in an elven light but rather it was wholesome and human. She was not from this world, he could tell.

"What is it Gandalf?" She turned to him smilingly with her dark tresses shining almost brown in the light.

"Nothing at all my Lady Guinevere. Nothing in the slightest." He answered playfully and punctuated his words with a wink.

She shook her head at his antics and continued walking.

Frodo Baggins had been at ease ever since he'd arrived at Rivendell. He'd seen his friends _and _his dear Uncle Bilbo who'd finished his account of his journey with Thorin Oakenshield's company. He'd been quite surprised, and frankly eager, when he saw that Gandalf had a new friend accompanying him. He'd been surprised to hear that Lady Guinevere had not heard of Rivendell but Gandalf's singular glance told him that there was more to the story. He'd shifted the conversation to the Shire which resulted in his now avidly describing its rolling green hills, bounty in trees and peaceful roads. He recited some songs that he remembered singing with the Green Dragons, he told her of Farmer Maggot's crops and of _all _six meals. He told her of Gandalf's spectacular fireworks that were adored by the children and of all his family. She'd been particularly intrigued and delighted by the Hobbit Holes. He was proud of himself when he heard her tinkling giggles.

"Oh goodness! That sounds absolutely delightful! Perhaps I might come and visit you in the Shire. It sounds so peaceful." She commented through giggles.

He flinched at a sudden sharp pain through his shoulder. His shoulders hunched over as he gripped at it. Without a thought, Guinevere knelt in front of him putting her own delicate hand over his own. "Are you okay?" Her voice was laced in worry. "I'm fine. I…I got stabbed by a Morgul blade when I was coming here. Strider and Lord Elrond got me here just in time otherwise I would've died." He elaborated.

She nodded blankly only comprehending that he'd received some sort of fatal injury when he had journeyed to Rivendell. There had been something peculiar since she'd arrived in Rivendell; Frodo, Gandalf, Lord Elrond, Legolas…they were all so familiar but she could not seem to understand why.

Gandalf threw her out of her musings "Here we are. Ah Lord Elrond."

Lord Elrond gave them a warm welcome ushering them to sit down. Legolas was already seated by Lord Elrond with the other elves also present. Guinevere silently noted that the seat opposite Legolas and next to Lord Elrond was vacant. The dwarves, for whom another table had been set, had yet to arrive but food was still served. Legolas had greeted her amicably and then proceeded to inquire after her injuries. From here the conversation grew to include some other elves as well as Frodo.

The dwarves arrived with great enthusiasm- a joy which also extended to hobbits according to Frodo. One particular dwarf's eyes lingered on her a few more seconds. He was stout like the others with a disgruntled expression. He had long scraggly auburn hair with a long beard in the same tone. His eyes lit up seeing food.

She bit her lip smilingly as she eyed them quietly. The dwarves ate with little to no manners, throwing food as they saw fit and guzzling down their beverages at an alarming rate. The elves watched them in distaste as they elegantly served themselves and ate with the utmost propriety. The men situated on the far end of the room ate similar to her- hungrily but not without manners. An assortment of fruits were artfully arranged in silver platters alongside a selection of bread, spreads and some that she did not recognise. Frodo looked at the food but ate very little. It puzzled her to no end but she did not voice her thoughts. She simply smiled at him when he felt her gaze and then turned away to the elf beside her who was eager to engage in conversation.

After breakfast, Guinevere retired to her room until Legolas came suggesting that he teach her archery. She knew very little about it but was not too bad at it. Often she'd also spend time with Frodo through whom she met Sam, Merry and Pippin.

Guinevere had concluded that hobbits were delightful creatures. Good things always did come in small packages. Samwise Gamgee, or Sam, was a treasure and apparently a very good cook. He was Frodo's gardener and as Merry kindly informed her would often resort to being polite when addressing others. Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took were also close friends of Frodo who assisted him in escaping the Nazgûl. They had kindly explained to her about the ring's prophecy and about Middle Earth as a whole.

She spent the next three days in a similar fashion until she was called upon for the council meeting. He'd failed to mention where it would be held but Gandalf had already considered this and was escorting both her and Frodo there. It then struck her like a bolt of lightening: Lord of the Rings...the book she'd picked up when she was still at the villa. Those names- Frodo Baggins, Gandalf, Legolas, Lord Elrond- they were all from Tolkien's works. Rivendell...Lord Elrond's dwelling- it too was from the book..._Oh no..._

The Hall was massive. A series of giant pillars were lined along the edges with vines and leaves carved in the stone. A number of high-backed chairs were placed around the room at equal intervals. The highest one was at the 'head' of the hall with a royal crest on it. It was occupied by Lord Elrond who sat there in all his majesty. The sunshine seeped through the archways behind him and twelve chairs were lined on each side between the pillars. The hall began to fill slowly with men, elves and another races knew exactly where their seats lied. There was another chair positioned in the shadow of Lord Elrond's where his page it seemed was to be seated. The elf was donned a royal blue outfit and his hair resembled Legolas', only black.

From where she stood at the other end of the room, the right chair was taken by Gandalf while Frodo sat next to him on an elevated panel. On the other side of the elevated panel were another two chairs. The chair farthest from Lord Elrond was taken by Legolas who rewarded her with a smile upon noticing her. Next to him, still on the platform, was another man. He didn't appear divine like the elves so he must've been a man. His eyes were a piercing blue with intelligence and courage hidden within their depths. His dark hair was shining radiantly in the sun, only barely reaching his shoulders. He had a shadow of a beard ghosting across his chiselled jaw. He too noticed her but she adverted her eyes, choosing to stand in the shadows between Gandalf and Frodo.

The wizard had warned her that it would be easier for her to remain hidden since she was a woman. She'd taken the opportunity to make a snide comment about men wanted to rule the entire world themselves causing Gandalf to erupt into a fit of laughter and Frodo to grin.

Legolas caught her eye and she silently waved to him with a genteel smile of her own. She noticed the man next to him lean toward him and ask him something. It was not English she could tell from the lip movements. The man hadn't seen her face but she knew that Legolas probably informed him of the new addition to the arrival.

Lord Elrond stood up regally and the entire hall went silent. "Strangers from distant lands…friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite…or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate…this one doom." His words struck fear in the hearts of everyone present at the assembly. The words echoed in her mind constantly reminding her of what was yet to come. "Bring forth the ring Frodo." The little hobbit timidly looked at Gandalf who nodded to him and surprisingly he turned his gaze to the corner of his eye in her direction. She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. He stood up, obviously unnerved at all the attention that was drawn to him. He pulled a small gold band from his maroon shirt pocket and placed it reverently on the stone plinth in the middle of the hall. There were gasps and murmurs that followed this and he all but raced back to his chair as eyes turned to him again. "So it _is _true." A man further down the opposite side said from his chair "Sauron's ring." Another elf murmured under his breath and once again everyone's eyes were drawn to the innocent ring who simply glinted when the sunrays washed over it. "The doom of man!" A dwarf grimly grunted.

Insanity set in within minutes of gazing at the ring "It is a gift! A gift for the foes of Mordor." _Who was this? _"My father, the Steward of Gondor has long foreseen this. Long have _we_ kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe." This was met with open protests but the man continued to speak_._"Let Gondor take hold of this divine weapon. Let us wield it against him!" _Some motivation buddy. _Guinevere's sarcastic side thought.

The man who she'd eyed before gave a defeated sigh before speaking himself. "You cannot wield it. None of us can. The one ring answers only to Sauron. It has no other master." He insisted. Guinevere closed her eyes and let him strong voice wash over her before her eyes cracked open. _What is wrong with me!?_

Boromir simply stared at the man in disgust "And what would a ranger know of this matter?" She very nearly pummelled his head in at the words. The 'ranger' did not answer though she could tell that fury simmered in him at the insult. _Damn it! What had made her so sappy? _She could not figure out why. Boromir dismissed him like he would a servant and was about to carry on with his infatuation of the ring when Legolas thankfully cut in. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." She gasped as others heads whipped in his direction. _This was A-Aragorn? Isildur's heir? __  
_

It was as if someone had slapped Boromir in the face. He stared disbelievingly at Aragorn "This is Isildur's heir?"

Legolas gladly reaffirmed this watching as Boromir's face turned a bright pumice "And heir to the throne of Gondor." _Oops…that would do it_.

Aragorn hesitated for a second, wisely realising that this would defeat the entire purpose of the gathering altogether. "Havo dad, Legolas." Legolas looked at Aragorn with an expression of confusion; probably as to why Aragorn would let Boromir trample on him like that; but respectfully returned to him seat still fuming. Boromir looked Aragorn straight in the eye with an air of arrogance and self-importance "Gondor has no king…Gondor needs no king." Gandalf returned the conversation back to the matter at hand: the ring. "You have only one choice…the ring _must _be destroyed." Lord Elrond stated firmly brooking no opposition.

"Well what are we waiting for?" One of the dwarf leaders asked. He lifted his axe and went to smash the ring. A thunderous crack echoed in the hall and all watched transfixed as Gimli (she heard the dwarves call out his name) was thrown back, luckily unscathed. It seemed that the ring had shared his fate. The axe's blade shattered into a thousand shards with the fragments scattered haphazardly over the plinth and the marble flooring. In amidst the chaos between the enraged dwarves, the ring still stood in tact with no hint of a scratch. "The ring cannot be destroyed Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess." The question then remained: how could the ring be destroyed. "The ring was made in the fire of Mount Doom and only there can it be unmade…It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." His voice had now risen to almost a shout. "One of you must do this." He emphasised after a short pause.

This was followed by a stunned silence that left all members of the council bowing their head downcast. "One does not simply _walk _into Mordor." Boromir commented with terror etched over his strong features. He did the entire 'Evil eye, fire, evil, ash, more evil, 'tis a folly!' speech and Legolas commented self-righteously that despite this, the ring must be destroyed. "And I suppose you'll be the one to do it." Gimli called from his end on the hall. Boromir added his two cents and a commotion erupted within the occupants of the hall. Even Gandalf was trying to salvage the point but he was ignored and then challenged by Boromir. Elves and dwarves argued amongst themselves and the humans intervened for the same purpose- to prove their point.

She ignored their gibbering and finally emerged from the shadows to speak to Frodo who sat in the chair clutching head in apparent agony. His face contorted in fear and he began to breathe rapidly. "Are you alright Frodo? Would you like me to get you a glass of water or something?" She asked clasping his cold hands in her own warm ones. He looked at her "It's the ring. It's calling to me. It's wrong Lady Guinevere. I'm supposed to go home with Sam, Merry and Pippin." She sighed "Frodo that is what the ring will do to you." She knelt in front of him in such a way that his infinite gaze on the ring was broken "And that is what it'll do to whoever takes it. That decision is your own to make." His reluctant blue eyes searched hers "I'm scared Lady Guinevere." She rewarded him with a half-smile tuning out everyone else in the background "Everyone is Frodo. Everyone is. Seriously, even I'm scared and I didn't even know of the thing until two hours ago. But I promise you whatever your decision is, I'll support it. If you decide to take the ring yourself, I'll walk into the very fires of Mordor with you and if you choose to go back to the Shire, we'll do that…but Frodo? That decision is _yours _to make. Mine is to support you as a friend no matter the outcome." She gave him a pointed glance and stood up, staring at the wall behind her in frustration as her leg went to sleep during the motivational talk.

His eye caught the ring again and glinted. Then with a sudden rush of need, he stood up "I will take it!" He called but no one heard him over the ruckus. Guinevere rolled her eyes, _men._"Hey! We've got a taker!" Everyone immediately stopped at hearing a female voice in the hall. "I will take it! I will take the ring to Mordor!" In truth, Frodo had no idea what he was doing but he felt it was the right thing to do. It was obvious even to a blind man that no one expected the lone hobbit from the Shire to offer to take the ring.

His voice quieted again "Though I do not know the way." Guinevere saw the myriad of emotions that flitted across Gandalf's face as he watched the young hobbit in weary sadness. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." His eyes shined with unshed tears and Guinevere knew why. This task was no ordinary one and no ordinary person could undertake it but she knew of the trials that he'd face and Gandalf though he did not know the entire tale, knew enough. She was now standing in plain sight next to Frodo's chair. Her gaze turned to Aragorn who finally rose from his seat. "If, by my life or death, I can protect you- I will." He walked over to Frodo and knelt before him "You have my sword." He then stood behind Frodo demanding anyone defy him as they eyed him distastefully. "And my bow." Legolas stood next to his friend. "And my axe." Gimli moved to stand beside the Mirkwood elf who seemed less than excited at the prospect. "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see to it." Boromir became the new addition. Guinevere smiled comfortingly as Frodo turned to her along with all their onlookers. Her hand found his injured shoulder where she lay her hand lightly as a sign of good faith and trust. "I made you a promise Frodo. And I intend to see it through. I will support you till the very end." She bowed her in respect before standing to the other side of Aragorn, desperately trying not to steal a glance at the heir of the Gondorian throne, knowing that he was willing her to look in his direction. Frodo looked around him at those who'd pledged their lives to seek him and his mission through. They were some of the greatest warriors in Middle-earth, all standing alongside him in his endeavour to complete an impossible mission.

"Here!" Everyone's attention averted to some rustling in the nearby bush and Aragorn removed his hand from Frodo's shoulder as a hobbit, Sam popped up from behind it. "Mr Frodo's not go'ng anywhere without me." Lord Elrond looked at him a small knowing smile playing at his lips "No, indeed…it is hardly possible to separate you…even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." He did not say it in anger though, rather in amusement. Merry and Pippin jumped out from behind some pillars at the entrance "Oi! We're coming too. You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" Merry called as the pair ran up to Frodo's other side. "Anyway…you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission." Everyone stared at him so he reiterated the final word "…Quest…" Nope that didn't some right either. "Thing." He finally decided. "Well, that rules you out Pip."

Lord Elrond surveyed the ten of them and nodded his approval. "Ten companions…so be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." He announced proudly.

And of course Pippin _had _to have the last say "Great…So where are we going?" Merry smacked the back of his head upright and Guinevere failed to hold back a giggle at the hobbits' antics.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other notes: (1) Follows the movie. (2) It may seem slow but the real changes begin when Boromir dies. (3) Guinevere Archer is not meant to be a Mary Sue.

NOTE: I realise that Guinevere had only read the books and this entire story is based on the film - just try and over look that please. This was a combination of two stories that I'd written and some parts (like this) didn't add up.


	4. Chapter 3: Learning the Ropes

**A/N: Here's a new chapter before training and foreign languages take over my existence. It's the moment we've been waiting for (or at least I have): Aragorn will meet Guinevere on his own terms. In response to a reviewer, I did genuinely consider that but originally the text was written that she met them in a forest. In order to keep the Fellowship from straying from their known path, she'd either find them before the council or straight at Lothlorien. Now if she was in the Forest of Lorien, I'm sure Haldir and his elves would have found her first. So in light of that, I chose the first option. I also chose to write a bit about her interaction with Guinevere to establish some kind of a basis as to her actions later in the story.**

**Side Note: This chapter is set after the council but before they leave Rivendell. It then skips to a few days into the journey- that way you don't have to go through chapters of them just trekking. Enjoy! And of course, please leave reviews. Satiné.**

******_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien. I own nothing._**

And So My Journey Begins

_Chapter 3: Learning the Ropes_

Guinevere Archer had taken to stowing away in a secluded corner of Rivendell. While the hobbits were absolutely wonderful and welcoming, they were also _very _exuberant.

She'd also confided in Gandalf telling him about the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Frankly, he didn't seem surprised in the least. Upon discussing the matter further, Guinevere realised that while the key facts were alike; some parts of the story had been profusely edited. Gandalf advised her to say nothing of this to avoid unwanted prying from others.

At Lord Elrond's behest, she'd taken to scouring the library in an attempt to find a good book. Most of the texts were in various dialects of the elvish language but she did locate one in 'Common Tongue'. It was about learning how to speak 'Sindarin'. So curling away with such a tempting book, Guinevere had consequently forgotten to attend supper. Some sections she didn't comprehend but that didn't stop her from reading on. Her shoulders almost dropped when she felt someone else's presence near her. She turned to the approaching figure.

"I hope you are not here for the solitude." He hinted.

"Actually I was; but company is always desirable Lord Aragorn."

He sat down at her invitation and his attention shifted to the leather bound novel in her hands. "What are you reading my lady?"

"I think we'll have to forgo formalities my lord, since we'll be seeing each other for at least the next ten months. Guinevere is just fine."  
He nodded his assent and gave her leave to address him by his own name. "Legolas told me of your 'meeting'. I am glad to see that you are well."

"I'm sure he exaggerated my unanticipated arrival. Did you happen to find me here by chance or was there some ulterior intent?"

"I am meant to escort you to dinner my lady."

She nodded quietly; she was famished…and only just realised it. As the two proceeded to walk towards the palace, Aragorn once again picked up their conversation "It was brave of you Guinevere. To fight those orcs unarmed."

Guinevere refused the praise graciously "It was purely an instinct of survival."

She found herself standing once again in Lord Elrond's library to return the book she'd picked up. She replaced in the slot she'd marked and turned to Aragorn, her fingers still trailing long the book spines. Feeling his probing gaze, Guinevere found herself quite self-conscious and wrapped her arms around herself, looking up shyly. "So…Isildur's heir huh? Does that mean I have to bow to you or something?" He chuckled heartily. "No. I'd prefer to think of you as a friend. That is if you agree." She stared at him wide-eyed. "Agree? You think I would not? With all due respect, Aragorn…" Guinevere didn't notice that she'd referred to him informally...but he did."…Are you sure you haven't lost _your _mind? I mean, the ring can do that to you. Who in their right mind would reject such a good man like you?" Her lips parted in a silent gasp realising that she'd said the last part out loud. "What did you say?" He asked. "I…never mind." She cursed her ability to blush at the slightest embarrassment. He eagerly grasped her wrist as she tried to sidestep him. "No tell me." She met his eyes and playfully shook her head freeing her wrist from his gentle hold. "Not happening Aragorn." She threw her head back laughing and ran away leaving him alone and thoughtful in the library.

The evening meal was a delight. The elves' hospitality was beyond words and perhaps their resilience in tolerating the dwarves was of an equal amount. The dwarves took every chance possible to insult the elves and the later would merely stare down at them aristocratically. Guinevere was seated between Frodo and Legolas nearing the head of the table. She'd been graciously placed amongst the elves. The seat that she'd seen empty for the first few days of her arrival was Aragorn's. She remembered that his guardian was indeed his father's once close friend and ally, Lord Elrond.

"How is your shoulder Frodo? Is it improving?" She quietly asked her companion who was looking forlornly at the empty plate in front of him.

His eyes almost lit up when she spoke "It is better. Still rather painful but in time it will heal."

"If it wasn't for Lord Elrond and Strider, Frodo would've died." Sam told her.

"Strider?" She feigned innocence.

"That would be me Lady Guinevere." It was the first time Aragorn had spoken to her directly, "My ranger name is Strider."

Lord Elrond did not seem particularly pleased at the last statement but said nothing choosing to mutter something in elvish to Lindir, who was waiting close by.

Merry took over and began to recount, with the occasional interruption from Pippin, about how Aragorn had single-handedly taken on five Nazgûl in great detail. The table erupted in praise of the ranger but Aragorn simply smiled it off. He hadn't been fishing for praise.

During the course of the rest of the evening, Guinevere had spoken with a multitude of people: Gandalf, the hobbits, Lord Elrond himself, numerous other elves that sat near her, Boromir…even Lindir came up to her once. But Aragorn remained silent. They shared secret glances, neither daring to speak to the other.

Early the next morning, The Fellowship gathered together at the entrance of Rivendell. When Guinevere arrived, she immediately noticed each person's different stance toward her. Legolas had warmly entered into conversation with her causing Gimli to glare suspiciously at her. She'd encountered Boromir the previous evening and he'd been quite emphatic about her revoking her decision to join the Fellowship…and she'd left him with a bright face and a bruised ego. She'd never be a good lawyer, arguing was never her forte but when she had a grudge to settle, she'd be throwing zingers all the way to the end. Gandalf had been staring at her curiously ever she'd met him but there was no deceit or malice so she let it go. The hobbits had been profusely delighted to have her as part of the Fellowship, which in a sense gave her some comfort. Frodo had taken easily to her and she was now amongst the small group that he trusted implicitly. For this reason, Sam was still treading lightly around her. He still believed that the ring had some hold over her. It was his concern that let him to act this way so she did not resent him for it. Merry and Pippin on the other hand were in quite good humour considering their final destination was not a pleasant one. However it was Aragorn whose behaviour baffled her more than anything. He'd been courteous with her but there was something cold about his behaviour.

After Lord Elrond had farewelled them with his daughter, Arwen by his side, they left. Throughout Elrond's speech, Guinevere couldn't help but continually assess Aragorn's interaction with Arwen. Their love was supposed to be a thing of stories with the eternal flame of passion forever lit. But every time Arwen chanced a glance in his direction, Aragorn gave her a cold stare and turned his attention to Lord Elrond. _What's that all about? _She wondered. And so in the early hours of a new day, they began their slow tedious trek to Mordor.

Two or so hours into their fifth day of journeying, Guinevere was staring to regret her decision to come. She'd never been much of a runner…or walker in fact. She was horrible in school at cross-country and preferred short sprints instead. All her exercise relied on martial arts and dance classes which were frequent during the week. Her feet were rubbed raw and covered in small blisters.

She'd taken to walking with Merry and Pippin who kept her entertained long enough for her to be able to ignore the pain until they made camp. When they made camp, Legolas would often sit down and chat for a while. Since their expedition, he'd been second in the single file since Gandalf benefited from a pair of elvish eyes that could see farther than his own could. Boromir was still being his misogynistic self which starting to irritate her more than she let on. She generally avoided him which suited the Gondorian just fine.

She'd hadn't got the chance to speak with Aragorn and was becoming increasingly worried that she'd done something to jeopardise their chances at friendship. Pippin had noticed her spirits dampening and asked her what was wrong. She'd told him, albeit reluctantly about herself and Aragorn. Pippin encouraged her to tell him and promised to distract Merry some time the following day so she'd be able to speak with Aragorn without being interrupted. Guinevere often forgot that the hobbits were older than they looked. Pippin and Merry with both either around her age or slightly older yet they treated her like an older sister.

By this fifth day, her feet were beginning to react to their overuse and her foot slid on some rocks. Merry and Pippin were talking with Boromir ahead of her so the only person to notice her trip up was Aragorn. The ranger gripped her arms firmly pulling her back into him. She held her breath as she collided with his chest. "Are you well?" Aragorn whispered softly in her ear. "Yes…" He raised an eyebrow "No." She said defeated "My feet hurt." A tear escaped the corner of her eye. He nodded and pushed her down onto a boulder. "Sit down." He ordered her firmly. The grey robed wizard leading them turned back to see her sitting on the boulder and the ranger kneeling in front of her with her grubby feet in his strong hands. "We'll make camp a little further from here." Gandalf announced. Boromir stared at the couple behind them and sneered a little "I told you she'd slow us down Aragorn." Tears of shame burnt her eyes. What astonished her the most was that it wasn't Aragorn who retaliated but rather Frodo "I asked her to come Boromir. She's my friend." Frodo told him sharply staring at Boromir. The Gondorian nodded dismissively and carried on. Aragorn didn't even bother to ask her; he bundled her up in his arms and carried her to their campsite.

As he put her down, her hand reached out to trap his "Lord Aragorn?"  
He frowned hearing the title "Yes my lady?"

"Have I done something wrong my lord?" She whispered quietly.

This obviously struck a chord in him because he sat down next to her clasping her hand. "What makes you think that my lady?"

She bit her lip before replying "You stopped talking to me after we left Rivendell. I-I thought I did something wrong."

"Is that why you're worried Guinevere? Because you think you did something wrong and that made me angry with you?"

She nodded mutely looking down at her swollen feet.

"Then you're wrong." She lifted her chin up, "My anger has _nothing _to do with you. Something happened…" He ran a hand over his face.

"With Lady Arwen perhaps?" His head shot up "I-I don't mean to pry but I saw her exchanging…or trying to exchange glances with you the day we left Rivendell."

He reaffirmed her words "Yes…Arwen is leaving for the Undying Lands."

Guinevere's brow furrowed. _Wait what? Oh right…she comes back to him in the final novel._

"Perhaps she'll stay behind."

He shook his head in despair "No. She won't. She told me she loved me but that her people were more important to her. What did I do wrong…?"

…_Chirp, chirp, chirp…Hold up, Arwen left him!? He thinks he's not good enough for her!? You're kidding, right? _

Guinevere rewarded him with a wistful smile "I know what you feel like. Back home, I had a fiancé…betrothed." He nodded. "Well he left me…no real reason…he just up and left. At the time I felt like I did something wrong. But the truth was that I was prepared to give up _everything _for him but he didn't want to give anything in return. He never really loved me."

He nodded sympathetically.

"You cherished her. I can tell you from your eyes. You loved her. Otherwise you wouldn't be thinking of her. You'd sacrifice anything for her. Your heart knows you would. You didn't do anything wrong. You just loved her but if she is prepared to run away at the first hurdle, she doesn't love you enough to sacrifice for you."

"You truly mean this?" He asked her with hope shining in his previously desolate eyes.

"I do. Lady Arwen leaving you because she didn't love you enough to sacrifice her immortality wasn't your fault. It's her loss."

For the first time since she'd seen him, she saw how vulnerable he truly was. "Whatever happens, whatever name you go by- Strider, Aragorn…Elessar. You'll always have a friend in me."

"Thank you." He murmured softly.

"Strider!" His shoulders fell, "Can you help me make the meal?"

"Aye. Give me a moment Sam." He called back his eyes never leaving hers.

He turned back to his original task of caring for her feet. He tenderly massaged them with an ointment that he'd concocted to ease the swelling and blisters. The salve felt cool against her heated skin and she relished the slight sting of it. He worked her feet expertly and she was almost asleep. She moved to get up but he stopped her. He helped her lay down on the soft mat he'd laid out for her and stroked her hair until sleep claimed her.

Someone shook his shoulder gently causing her to wake. She shifted from her side to her back and let her eyelids flutter open at their own will. The sunset tones invaded her sight as she winced rolling away from them. She rubbed her eyes. "Pippin?" The hobbit grinned spritely at her. "Sam made dinner. Everyone's just sat down. I was wondering if you'd like me to save some for you." She shook her head "No. I'm awake now." Pippin glared at her. "What?" "Well? Did you ask him?" Guinevere nodded "He is not upset with me." She confirmed and Pippin's grin widened. "Come on! Dinner's served. Sam's a real good cook as you know." He forcefully tugged on her hand and pulled her up.

The rest of the Fellowship was crowded around the campfire. The flames licked at the metal bowl braced on large logs. "Pippin. I _told _you not to wake her up!" Merry scolded but Guinevere just smiled softly "I was already awake Merry. Pippin just informed me of dinner." Pippin looked at her questioningly knowing she'd just lied but she only winked at him and then took her place between Legolas and Aragorn with a plate filled with bacon and roasted vegetables. "Are your feet healing Guinevere?" Guinevere looked to Gandalf who sat across from her "Yes remarkably well. Aragorn's ointment has eased the pain and by tomorrow they'll have healed completely." She nodded her thanks to Aragorn who rewarded her efforts with a small smile in return of her own.

"So…" She interrupted the silence that had taken them for some time, "What about a game?"

A number reactions came to this statement:

Merry- "Yay a game!"

Pippin- "What sort of game?"  
Gimli- "Is it an elf game?"

Gandalf- "That sounds delightful."

Boromir rolls his eyes at the apparent childishness.

Legolas- "I suppose…"

Aragorn just stayed silent with a raised eyebrow. Then again, he wasn't much of a talkative person.

Sam- "Is it difficult?"

Frodo- "I'm not sure…"

She smiled "Don't worry Frodo. It's not difficult."

"So? What is it?" Pippin urged, obviously hyped at the notion of a game.

"Charades!" She announced proudly.

"What's charades?" Sam asked.

"I think you'll get the hang of it if we start playing. Who wants to go first?"

"Ooh! Me! Me!" Of course, Pippin was the most enthusiastic.

"Alright Pippin. You go first. Now you have to think of something. Then you can describe it in any way without talking, making sounds or using props."

"Props."

A mischievous grin graced her lips. She bound up within seconds and stole Legolas' sword. She pretended to line it up and then send the golf ball sailing through the green. She put a hand up to 'pretend' block the sun from her eyes.

"Golf?" Sam asked.

"See, now that wasn't so hard was it? So in your case Pippin you can't use the sword like I just did. Now go on, think of something."

She handed Legolas his sword back as the elf just stared at her with sparkling eyes.

"Okay." Pippin proclaimed proudly "I've got something. Do I start?"

"WAIT!" Guinevere put her hand out to stop him, "Okay from now on you can't speak." Pippin nodded mutely. "Great now how many words is it?"

Pippin put three fingers up. "Alright, first word."

He put a finger to his chin. "The?" She inquired helpfully. He nodded.

"Second word?" He began to motion around.

"Grass?" Gandalf asked.

"Wilderness?" Legolas' guess wasn't right either.

Pippin then began to dance around like a drunk lunatic. "Drunk?" Guinevere suggested.

"Beer?" Aragorn inputted. Pippin tilted his head "Okay, so close." Guinevere decided.

"The Green Dragon!" Frodo exclaimed. Pippin stopped dancing. "That's it. That took you long enough."

"Great! Now it's your turn Frodo." Guinevere nudged him up to the other side of the campfire which had been cleared for the performers. He surveyed them nervously as he tried to think of something. He gave a two thumbs up when he figured it out. He put out one finger. "One word." Guinevere translated for him. He started motioning to something and waving his hands around. No could figure it out. He was getting discouraged. His head hung "Building?" His head shot up in her direction and Guinevere sat up "So close?" He nodded. "House?" Sam added. Gandalf smiled gently "Home." Frodo nodded happily.

And so they continued late into the night. Even Boromir who was against the idea has been coerced into joining them halfway through. Aragorn and Legolas had come up with some interesting ones together when she told them that it could be done with more than one person.

The hobbits were first to fall asleep and Aragorn and Boromir had tucked them into their mats. The others then sat around the campfire and minus Guinevere and Legolas, smoking their pipes. Guinevere was next to retire; the pipe smoke had been affecting her breathing slightly, something that no one except Aragorn and Gandalf noticed. She lay on the mattress under the stars watching Aragorn as he looked deep into the fire undeterred. That was the last thing she saw before she was claimed by sleep.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other notes: (1) Follows the movie. (2) Guinevere Archer is not meant to be a Mary Sue.

**A/N: So how did you like that? :) Although this story has romance between Aragorn and Guinevere, I didn't to take away the purpose of it- Frodo's ring. So I wanted to put some filler parts in to lighten up the journey and some additional interaction between the Fellowship with Guinevere. ****Reviews are loved and very welcome here!**


	5. Chapter 4: Hospitality of the Elves

**A/N: Okay, so I wasn't expecting to update today but my new DELL arrived. It's perfect- exactly the way I wanted it. Anyways, so to celebrate (and partially because I couldn't resist, I've ended up updating again! This one pretty much sums up everything from the Mines of Moria to Lothlorien which I haven't changed at all. The large italicised segments are meant to be memories (something that has already occured). Guinevere remembers what has happened up to that point and then dines with the Fellowship and Lady Galadriel/Lord Celeborn. I'm sorry if the last part isn't that funny- it took me a while to wrack it up in my brain. **

**A massive thank you to RedBear5 for pointing out my errors (in a nice way- much appreciated) and to LadyVanya, MrsRickGrimes and for taking the time to review and compliment my writing. It made my day. And also finally a LARGE thank you to followers and those who've marked 'And So The Journey Begins' as favourites. More reviews are also welcome! Satiné.**

**_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. It always was, is and will be J.R.R. Tolkien's._**

Chapter 4: Hospitality of the Elves

_The Fellowship, under Gandalf's insistence, had taken a short stop by some large boulders. Sam had took advantage of this stop and had begun to cook some sausages. Boromir meanwhile had taken to teaching the two younger hobbits how to defend themselves with a blade. Aragorn watched on occasionally throwing out advice as Guinevere sat beside him. The others were observing the landscape quietly…well, Gandalf and Legolas were; Gimli was still complaining about taking the 'long way around'. _

_Guinevere chuckled as Merry and Pippin tackled the Gondorian to the ground. "For the Shire!" Aragorn got up in truth fatherly fashion telling them to settle down, only to be 'swept' off his feet. Her giggles then increased into full-blown laughter._

_The corner of her gaze was drawn to a certain blonde elf who was standing atop of a large boulder not far behind her. His usual vacant expression morphed into one of caution. "What is that?" She asked climbing up the short rock face so that she was level with the others. "Merely a wisp of cloud." Gimli gruffly replied but Boromir too seemed to be of a different opinion. "It's moving against the wind." _

_Legolas' elvish vision caused him to realise it first. This was no cloud. "Crebain from Dunland!" He abruptly yelled and everyone sprung from their seats. The members of the Fellowship all clambered and crawled into various hiding spots amongst the rocks. They disappeared completely as though there was no one here. Aragorn grasped her from behind pulling her into a crevice underneath a rock. Her olive skin was quite noticeable if found so Aragorn had turned her so that she was pressed against his chest. One hand was braced on her back and the other behind her head. She vaguely heard Frodo's harsh breaths by their feet; he too was huddled in the corner of their hiding spot. _

_The black birds squawked with abandoned. Their screeching piercing her ears profoundly. She stiffened immediately trying to block out the noise. Aragorn evidently felt the shift because he held her closer in an attempt to somewhat placate her as the last of the Crebain left their dwelling. _

_They all climbed out…or in Guinevere, Aragorn and Frodo's case, rolled out of their hiding spots. "What were they?" Guinevere panted as adrenaline surged through her blood. ""Spies of Saruman." _

"_Saruman?" Guinevere inquired; the name was familiar somehow._

"_The White Wizard. One of the five Istari. Saruman the White is the head of their council." Gandalf told her brusquely._

"_Doesn't that mean he's a good guy?" She whispered confused._

"_Saruman yielded to the darkness that is Sauron. Isengard is now veiled in darkness and Saruman has turned against evil." _

_She nodded to Gandalf's confession and said no more as they packed once again. "The path of the south is being watched." Gandalf finally uttered, "We shall have to take the Pass of Caradhras"_

She stirred suddenly as she awoke swathed in soft silky sheets. Disorientated for a moment, Guinevere looked around in confusion at her surrounds. The artfully carved four poster bed she lay on was situated in the middle of a bedroom. A wood armoire matching the style of the bed and a white marble dressing table were propped up against the opposite wall. The accuracy of elven craft was to be noted.

Elves of Lothlórien were just as skilled but perhaps less hospitable than the Rivendell elves. The Fellowship had taken the Pass of Caradhras, only to be temporarily snowed in by Saruman. Gandalf gave Frodo the choice of their next route and the hobbit had chosen the Mines of Moria.

Guinevere only realised what was to come when she saw the inevitable happen.

_Her tresses had escaped the French braid she'd weaved them into. They flew into her face as she ran behind Boromir. Her head twisted awkwardly as she heard "You shall _not _pass!" _

_Tears pooled in her eyes as she watched Gandalf duel the Balrog; a giant creature with the horns of a ram and the whip made of flame. His staff connected violently with the solid path and she watched in awe as the monster plunged to its death. Relief spread over both Frodo and Aragorn's faces as Gandalf stood upright at the trembling lip of the stone. _

_She was not, however, prepared to see Gandalf clinging onto the edge of the stone walkway. The thongs of the Balrog's fire whip had reached up and with a final attempt at revenge, coiled around Gandalf's ankle. With the small reserves of the strength that the grey wizard could muster, he tried to pull himself up…but to no avail. "Gandalf!" Frodo's screams tore at her heart but as the wizard fell to his death- they had no choice but to continue to the mouth of the cave. Aragorn lingered, his disbelieving gaze still trained on the spot where Gandalf had fallen. He stumbled over his feet the bow and sword clutched in either hand. He went up the stairs two at a time and was the last one to leave the Mines of Moria._

_Sam sat down on a nearby boulder and buried his face in his hands. His dirt-caked face was streaked with hot tears. Merry gripped Pippin's shoulder, as the younger one heaved sobs. Legolas stood overlooking the mountains still not comprehending what had happened. Boromir held an angry Gimli as he tried to re-enter the mines. Only Aragorn had not yet grieved but she could almost feel the torment in his heart and the conflict. As he ordered Boromir, Legolas and herself to get them up, Boromir went to protest; but as Aragorn saw it, Gandalf had entrusted their safety to him and so it would be. _

"_Frodo." He called and as she turned she saw the hobbit, bereft of emotion as he stared at Aragorn. A lone tear slid down his pale cheek followed by another. _

_Gandalf had left them._

The Lady of Light's entrance in her room caused her to sit up slightly. Lady Galadriel's pointed ears reiterated herself as an elleth. Her skin was an unblemished porcelain much like the others of her race. Her every sharp feature from the contours of her cheeks to the elegant arch of her nose were perfect. However, her angelic aura blatantly distinguished her from ordinary elves. She stood tall and very slender with luscious golden waves tumbling loose at her waist. Her clear crystal eyes spoke of serenity and wisdom.

"Hello my child. I see you have awaken. Do you feel ill?"

Guinevere shook her head "No my lady, not at all."

"I am glad. Lord Aragorn was full of praise for your valour."

Guinevere simply nodded her head, unsure how to reply.

"Now never mind that. I have arranged for a warm bath to be drawn for you and some new clothes to be brought to you. I have also sent for one of my handmaidens to assist you in dressing for supper this eve." She lay a delicate hand onto Guinevere's forehead with a gentle motherly smile.

Guinevere stripped herself of her clothes which consisted of her undergarments and a night gown, presumably loaned from one of the elves. She was ecstatic at the sight of clean water. It was a luxury that she'd almost forgotten. The bath was much larger than her own at home. The crystal water had rose petals floating on the surface. The room was scented with rose and lavender. She stepped into the water and soaked in silence. The grit and dirt that her skin had collected seeped away from her pores leaving her skin moist and cleansed. The water almost seemed magical as it removed any traces of imperfection on her caramel skin.

She donned a robe purposely left for her use and wandered into her chambers only to find a small mousey elf sitting in the corner anxiously. _Definitely the handmaiden_. "My lady, Lady Galadriel sent for me to dress you for the evening." Guinevere introduced herself and found that her handmaiden did indeed have a name: Aranduriel. Guinevere had originally considered dressing herself but when she spared a glance at the gown, she realised that she'd need a second person to tie the stays together. The dress was made of ruby red material with flaring sleeves. The neckline was square which complimented her necklace perfectly. Aranduriel had also insisted on doing her hair so twenty minutes later, a thick portion of her hair was left loose with a toper layer pinned artfully above. Aranduriel stood back, no doubt to admire her work, but her 'pride' resembled uncertainty. "Do you like it my lady? If not…" Guinevere swiftly cut her off. "It is marvellous. Now, would you mind escorting me to the dining hall, for if I shall venture alone, I'll end up by the seaside" _Damn, I'm starting to sound like them as well now._ Aranduriel laughed gaily and grasped her hand.

Aranduriel led her to large double doors fashioned of wood and told the guards who they were. "This is as far as I can go, my lady." She sighed and Guinevere smiled at her kneeling at the girl's height. "Well thank you very much my dear." The girl flashed a smile and scurried away. As she drew herself to her full height the doors open, and with a deep breath Guinevere entered. Thankfully, it was not as vast as the one in Rivendell but it was still enough to intimidate her. A single table was situated in the middle of the marble floor. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel sat the head of the table. From there on, Aragorn sat on their left with Haldir, the elf who'd granted them entry to Lothlórien, on the right. The Fellowship was then scattered in various spots over the table with the advisors them on the end. She took the only space available on the bench; between Legolas and Pippin.

Gimli gawped wide-eyed at her until Boromir nudged him gently. The dwarf chuckled heartily "I've ne'er been more surprised at a lass wearing a dress." Legolas gave him a look that she couldn't figure out "But it looks very fine on her." Pippin gave her that tell-tale grin which meant he was up to no good. Especially with Merry situated opposite him on the table.

Dinner had been spectacular. The food was delicious and plentiful, which was enough to make the hobbits and Gimli overjoyed. Pippin alone had downed almost four serves of each dish, tasting everything whether it be savoury or sweet, delicious or not. _Ah, the perks of a Hobbit. _

Frodo was quite subdued no doubt the ring was helping matters so she set on making him laugh. She'd begun conversing with him about petty things like the food and weather until finally looked at him straight in the eye "Did I tell you about my bruised cheek when I was thirteen?" The Fellowship stopped talking "No you didn't." Frodo told her obviously interested. She had purposely avoided any stories about her childhood and world. Although she was quite at unease with the entire table waiting for her to begin, Guinevere chuckled at the reminder.

"It was quite brilliant actually. My mum was from the south so she always cooked tons more than we could eat. Even Pip and Merry would be bloated by the end of our dinners. Anyways, the day before my thirteenth birthday, I decided to go outside and play with Tavern." Frodo stared at her in disbelief and she stared back at him pointedly "Yes, I know. His name _was _Tavern that was because he ate more hay than people could eat food in a tavern." The occupants of the table broke out into laughter including Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. "So I'm outside for three minutes trying to saddle Tavern until my mum found me. And you should've heard her 'Oh goodness Evie! What is the meaning of this? What have I told you about Tavern? He's dangerous'" She mimicked her mother and then snorted "Yeah…to the hay." Again everyone laughed.

"Oh but you haven't heard the best part of it. You know why she said that? Well remember I told you she had a habit of cooking delicious food? Well there was this blueberry pie she'd make from the berry tree in our garden and it was a family favourite. On my eighth birthday, I found it sitting on the dining table and I couldn't resist. I began to bite into the slice I'd managed to cut. The thing was, eating this pie with a stain was like teaching that thing to brush its' teeth." She pointed to the pillar behind her. "Impossible, I tell you. Anyways, moving on; so I went out to play as soon as I heard mum come in and she thought that my older cousin, who was staying with us, stole the piece of pie. Now you see, she believed this because while he was in the kitchen getting a glass of water, I'd snuck the empty plate with the blueberry pie crumbs into his room. So I'm sitting out here playing with Tavern and he knocks me over onto my back. Mum thinks he's trampling me and sends me away. Now she looks at this giant bruise on my cheek and goes 'That horse was dangerous' I corrected her 'No mum. That is definitely a pony. And it's smaller than me.'." They roared into hysterics again. "And then I run up to my room with the icepack that my mom gave me and look in mirror. The bruise was the blueberry pie stain I'd gotten while eating it!" That did it, even the guards outside the room were laughing like there was no tomorrow. And her purpose was served Frodo had laughed.

During this, Gimli had downed _at least _twenty goblets of the sweet elvish wine. There was no doubt that the dwarf was intoxicated as he began to roar in laughter abruptly or talk loudly. Even Sam's spirits had been turned around and Aragorn looked to be much more at ease than before.

That evening, as Guinevere lay in bed playing with the silk sheets, she began to contemplate the last few days of their journey. More importantly, she'd let herself grieve for Gandalf. Right after she'd seen Gandalf fall, they'd escaped. She looked around as most wept and others remorsefully blamed themselves. Guinevere couldn't comprehend it herself- it had all happened so fast. She'd just clutched Sam and held him. She'd not managed to shed many tears nor had she been able to properly grieve for the dear wizard. He'd been a great comfort to her since she'd been dropped into this world. He'd become like family for her. They all lamented openly for Gandalf except Aragorn. She'd seen the heartfelt terror that seized him as he saw his friend plunge to his death. Fear had been embedded in his heart that as the reality weighed on him; not only had he lost a dear friend but perhaps their quest's fate lay on a similar path to Gandalf's. He remained stoic and pushed on. She prayed that the rest of the journey was eased from the burden of sorrow. She knew that they would not be able to bear the burden of losing someone at this point.

Breakfast the following morning was adjourned quickly. The men were picking at their food, Legolas had given up eating entirely- only consuming a single bread and even Gimli didn't eat as much as the previous night. Only the young hobbits excluding Frodo were absorbed in feasting on whatever they could get their hands on. Legolas had greeted her, silently inquiring of her feelings. Guinevere had been touched at his concern. She'd lost her appetite but reluctant to unassumingly insult her hosts, she took a roll of bread. Upon Merry's insistence she'd also taken a small amount of elvish spread.

Her eye was caught by Lady Galadriel who smiled warmly at her. She returned it hesitantly and turned back to her food. Lord Celeborn insisted that she plate up some more which Guinevere did without question but she was truly full. Pippin saw this and while the Lord and Lady were deep in conversation with Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas, he whispered to her. "Are you going to eat that?"

Guinevere spared a glance at him questionably "I suppose I will have to. Why?"

"I meant to ask- do you want to eat that?"

She discreetly shook her head "Not really. I don't think I can stomach much more especially with our impending journey."

Making sure that no one was looking Pippin stole the remains of food still on her plate throwing Merry a dirty look who stared at him with an impish grin. Guinevere's jaw hung open that Pippin's openness. "Is everything alright?" Lady Galadriel asked with a knowing smirk. Guinevere stumbled to answer her so Merry covered up for Pippin's mischief. "I was just asking Lady Guinevere if she's ever tasted Petty-Dwarf roots and Pippin happened to mention that the texture was like flesh." The rest of their companions chuckled while Gimli grumbled something about 'mini men and bad taste-buds' under his breath.

Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had taken great measures in presenting the Fellowship with their gifts. The Fellowship had decided that it was time to leave Lothlórien behind after a week's stay. Each member was presented with an Elven cloak personally woven by Galadriel and her maidens. The clasp on them was in the form of a silver veined green leaf. Guinevere was astonished to find that her cloak alone was differently shaded. There were two sides to it- one was identical to the others' grey but the inside however was a dark almost-black purple. One by one Lady Galadriel had given them gifts. Frodo was given The Light of Eärendil; a small crystal bottle that contains the light of Eärendil star in Galadriel's fountain; Sam was given an Elven rope while Merry and Pippin were presented with a silver belt favoured by the Elves of Lothlórien. Aragorn was handed an Elven Scabbard while Legolas was presented the Bow of the Galadhrim with a new quiver of arrows. Gimli, overwhelmed by the elf queen's beauty had asked for a strand of her hair and Galadriel had lovingly given him three instead. Boromir was given a solid gold belt crafted in Lórien and Guinevere was given a new sword and artfully woven bag. This was accompanied by Galadriel's words "Don the necklace this eve. Fear not for it will not break." Now properly farewell, the troops continued on through the forest with Aragorn leading them.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other notes: (1) Follows the movie. (2) Guinevere Archer is not meant to be a Mary Sue.


	6. Chapter 5: Trials of the Brave

**A/N: Hello everyone! 14 followers...wow! I'm definitely happy about it (as you can probably tell...). So here is chapter five of 'And So The Journey Begins'. There is not much dialogue but more thoughts. Guinevere sums up the journey from Lothlorien to the Anduin. From here on things really begin to progress. I'm glad that at least someone is**** enjoying this story. Thank you to the reviewers and followers- they give me a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart. Virtual hugs to you all :) Satin****é**

******NEW A/N: Hi everyone. LadyVanya, one of my wonderful readers, kindly corrected a small error in the later half of my chapter. I was obviously misinformed and am glad that I was informed (nicely too- I received a lot of negative, saddening criticism on my first story which I discontinued). Anyways, thanks once again. This doesn't affect the story line in any way but I just thought it necessary to acknowledge the mistake. Next update will be on Saturday/Sunday! Ooh! And thanks to the now _17 _followers- love you all! ****Satin****é**

**_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 5: Trials of the Brave

The Fellowship only stayed a little over a week at Lothlórien to collect their thoughts, grieve for Gandalf and rest. During this time, Haldir and the other Lothlórien elves had taken a liking to the innocent hobbits and allowed them to freely explore the realm. Most of their adventures in the forest had been accounted for by the mischievous pair that were currently snoring away on their mats.

She had a story of her own to tell. Guinevere had spent many a vacation on her grandparent's farm where they bred horses to sell. She'd learnt to ride on a pony and by fourteen, she was a competent barrel racer. However, two weeks after a major tournament, her horse _Night Rider _had reared causing her to fall off. Her injuries were nothing more than scrapes and bruises but she'd been too frightened to ride ever again. Seven years later, the gigantic beasts terrified the living daylights out of her. Aragorn and Legolas had been trying since they'd left Rivendell to help her get over her fear but to no avail. The closest she could be around horses was leading Bill the Pony.

Lady Galadriel had perceptively insisted that she meet a few, free running stallions. There were not many as Lothlórien was primarily forestry but the elves had rescued them from the clutches of evil men or monsters. The horses were free to roam the forest freely and on their own accord, acted as scouts for intruders from the outside world.

It was here that Guinevere had first met Belan. The Powerful Horse. Dark and dangerous as the evils themselves but filled with a heart of love and loyalty. His midnight black coat gleamed in the small remains of the sunlight. Belan was intimidating- he almost towered over her. What struck her most were his eyes. Coloured a misty grey, they spoke of a fading spirit and ever haunting shadows…a desire to be loved and cared for. Every moment she spent with the stallion, she saw him as more of a human than a horse.

_Lady Galadriel approached a lone horse. He stood tall and proud with apprehension toward the new arrivals. She stroked his nose gently and he softly neighed, his grey eyes still trained on Aragorn, Legolas and Guinevere._

_"This is Belan."_

_"A Powerful Gift." Legolas whispered softly still staring at Belan. Guinevere could not move as she looked on in amazement. Her heart tugs painfully as he stared at her with long lost hope. _

_"He was once a stallion of the Rohirrim. He was then taken by the Nazgûl." Belan reared in fright as she uttered the final word. "He escaped their clutches and came to the gates of Lothlórien. The elves tried to tame him but he is a wild horse." She explained. _

_Aragorn saw Lady Galadriel turn to Guinevere. "Very few can ride him."_

_Guinevere was almost drawn to him as she walked up to him from behind Aragorn and stroked Belan gently. He nuzzled her hand making her giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her fear had not dissipated but it had eased. Somehow she felt that Belan could understand her reluctance._

_"I doubt I'd be able to Lady Galadriel. Perhaps we should move on."_

_"Very well." Lady Galadriel's lips upturned into a secretive smile. _

_As soon as Guinevere tried to part with Belan, the defiant stallion pinched the sleeve of her tunic in his teeth. She coaxed him lovingly into letting her go but he whinnied and shook his head stubbornly. He tugged on her sleeve causing her to collide albeit gently into him. _

_"Perhaps you ought to reconsider Guinevere. He will not let you go." Aragorn chuckled. _

_Guinevere smiled brightly as she scratched his nose. _

_"Belan is strong-willed to be sure but he is truly a willing companion with a rider of _his _choice. _

Guinevere laughed presently at the reminder.

_"When I fall on my face you better not laugh." She pointed to them sharply and rolled her eyes upon hearing muffled chuckles. _

_Aragorn helped her into the saddle and the black beauty eased her mount by 'kneeling' down slightly. "Are you alright?" She nodded stiffly. Belan neighed softly as if to remind her that she was in safe hands._

_Guinevere nudged him lightly with her feet, Belan responded immediately, slowly walking around the arena. He sped up a little at her insistence. Belan tried to gallop but she refused. Her fear was not yet overcome._

_Lady Galadriel looked over to Aragorn and Legolas "I think that Belan has found his destined rider." She looked at Aragorn who still had a little doubt etched on his face as he watched the stallion and his rider. "Do not worry, son of Isildur. No harm will come to her. Belan will protect her with his life." _

During their time in Lothlórien, Aragorn had often overseen Guinevere's riding lessons. She'd been terrified to start with but it was a lesson that had to be learnt. Her back was not ramrod straight anymore but her legs were still stiff when she rode. The emotional bond between the horse and rider was truly something magical. All who witnessed the pair knew that Guinevere had bonded strongly with Belan and when they resumed their journey, it was not only Guinevere that had been desolate in their parting.

They had left Lothlórien in a series of small boats- given to them by Lord Celeborn- to guide them through the Anduin. The Fellowship had been ambitious in an attempt to travel the entire way from Lothlórien to the bank just after the Argonath; stopping only twice. However, night still fell and sleep would creep into their stead. The fast-flowing stream then drained into the Anduin. Tall rocky cliff-faces lined either side of the water with an occasional steep flight of stairs carved into the rock. In truth, the rocks appeared much rockier than they actually were. She quoted from Jim Carrey's 'Dumb and Dumber' sarcastically. _I expected the rocky mountains to be a little more rockier than this. _

She'd fleetingly mentioned it to Gimli. The stocky dwarf choked on his own laughter from the boat opposite hers. Aragorn had indirectly and diplomatically made an agreement with Boromir in which Sam and Frodo would travel in his boat. Guinevere knew that it was because he was concerned for their safety. She'd easily concluded that both Legolas and Aragorn did not trust Boromir in the slightest when it came to the welfare of the ring-bearer.

Speaking of the young…well, middle-aged hobbit, the ring had begun to slowly claim Frodo's heart. His skin had become increasingly pallor throughout the quest. A lack of sleep also caused his blue eyes once filled with bubbling mischief to become ghastly. It was like looking through glass. His eyes would soon be blinded with a sheer veil of deceit. The ring tormented him and while she could never even comprehend the full power of the ring, she knew that it was a larger burden than any.

Much had changed since they'd first set off on their journey. Guinevere had devoted a lot of her time to keep alive the spirit of the Fellowship. It was slowly becoming replaced with dread. Of all, Frodo had the worst of it- having to both make the journey _and _carry the ring. As a figment of speech, people often said not to carry the world's burden on their respective shoulders but Frodo was doing just that. It was not metaphorical in any way.

Naturally Sam kept a keen eye on his friend and employer. He too was beginning to worry. It was his constant mummeries that convinced Frodo to occasionally nibble on some food and quench his thirst. The sincerity he showed to Frodo was truly touching. She had no doubt that is the Fellowship were destined to collapse then Sam would be the last to leave Frodo's side. That was her comfort.

Merry and Pippin were positively bursting with wit and antics. They'd not sobered in the least since she'd met them earlier on in the journey. While most of the Fellowship feigned irritation, they secretly indulged in the innocence of the hobbits. They'd seen nothing but the everlasting greenery and comfort of the Shire. However, they too were beginning to lose their spark. Weariness was now also beginning to remain permanently etched in their faces.

They'd all been very cast down since Gandalf's passing in Moria. No one had anticipated Gandalf's death and so early in the quest. At risk of sounding horrid, they'd all supposed it to be either her or one of the younger hobbits to go first. Yet another burden that Frodo carried on his already heavily-burdened shoulders.

Gimli had at long last come to terms with Balin's death and the sacking of Moria. It was another event that could not be foretold; however, Guinevere had a sneaking suspicion that Gandalf knew at least some of it hence his reluctance of travelling through the mines. Guinevere was amazed at how Gimli managed to contain his misery, perhaps because he'd already seen enough wars to last him a lifetime. Accustomed to mourning, he took it all in stride and carried on with life as though he'd not live long enough to see the next day's sunrise.

She'd also discovered over the course of the journey that Gimli had an unhealthy infatuation with alcoholic drinks and ale. Though she'd never admit it out loud in fear of being hit, Guinevere did in fact believe that he was the cutest thing she'd seen (alongside a lama and a meerkat...ooh! And ponies...yes, she did find a _lot _of things cute). Gimli wielded his axe with great skill and surety. These two traits were spread over, she noticed, all the war-seasoned members of the Fellowship.

Aside all this, the taller half of the Fellowship were getting on tolerably well too. At least she considered it to be so.

Boromir had improved immensely since their initial encounter at Rivendell. Since his first attempt at making amends, he'd become warmer toward her and she was much kinder toward him. Guinevere was now convinced that it was indeed the ring's influence that had driven his animosity.

What concerned her the most was the peculiar and unnatural traits that she'd begun to see surface in him. Boromir, without a doubt, adored Merry and Pippin and got along just fine with Sam; it was his interaction with Frodo that made her uneasy. From what she'd heard and witnessed, Guinevere could safely conclude that his infatuation with the ring was as strong as Gimli's infatuation with alcoholic beverages. She didn't doubt his integrity but the ring would soon poison his mind wholly. It was neither the Nazgûl nor the orcs that were her greatest fear- it was Boromir.

Aragorn had accidentally overheard her as she voiced these thoughts out loud to herself. She was not surprised to hear that he too agreed with her assessment…Yet another admirable quality of the ranger. Ever since she'd first laid eyes on him during the council at Rivendell, Guinevere had been at a loss as how to describe the ranger.

She knew he was destined to be the king but it was from this same destiny that he ran. He'd somewhat come to terms with his fate- whatever it may be- and bore it graciously. One day, when both Legolas and Gimli were fed up of each other, Guinevere had willingly agreed to ride in a boat with Boromir and Gimli while Legolas took her place with the hobbits and Aragorn. Guinevere and Boromir conversed optimistically as they rode the rapid current of the Anduin.

it was a mere coincidence that the subject of Denethor had been brought up. Boromir explained about his father's unhealthy obsession with Gondor's throne. Denethor would not give up his throne willingly and especially not to Aragorn. However, the fate of Gondor would soon be determined. His people were now beginning to lose their faith in their king and with the times turning dark, this was not a good omen.

Thinking back to Aragorn: she'd also begun to notice the kingly traits that Aragorn had inherited from his ancestors. He didn't consciously realise it but his true heritage still showed. Beyond his superior swordsmanship and unrivalled intelligent, she'd also witnessed dedication and strength. He tacitly led the Fellowship- another sign of a true king…but she'd also seen his internal battle. All his adulthood life he'd lived as Strider; free in the open lands of Middle Earth and living from his own deeds. If he claimed the throne, he'd be confined to his kingdom and weighed down by his duty to his people. Guinevere had seen doubt cloud his face as he considered whether he'd truly succeed as king.

His closest friend from the Fellowship; still alive; was Legolas. The Mirkwood prince was attempted to calm Aragorn through exchanging knowing glances and small smiles of courage.

Legolas had become a valuable addition to the Fellowship. More than that however, he was a true friend. Legolas had grown to love her as a younger sister. He'd even gone so far as to gift her with his old bow which had now been replaced by the one gifted to him in Lothlórien. He'd also taken upon the responsibility of teaching her how to shoot arrows which had proved to suit her skill set. He'd opened up more about his childhood and in return she'd explained to him of the fascinations of her world. It sounded better than it was- the elf was greatly intrigued.

His relationship or lack thereof with Gimli was another entirely different tale. Since the 'dark' days elves and dwarves held a sort of rivalry between them; each claiming to be the superior race. While they bantered like brothers, both also keenly spent any time together insulting one another.

_"I'll have ye know that dwarf beer is can surpass your elven 'wine' which consists of more water than alcohol any day." _

_"Gimli, are you having trouble riding? I'm sure that a nearby village could spare a pony for you." _

_"I want me self a nice dwarf lady not your monstrous elves…with the exception of Lady Galadriel."_

Guinevere too had changed since she'd first found herself in Middle Earth. She'd for one learnt to pick up some dust and grit along the way. Her former training as a martial artist had enabled her to pick up weaponry quite quickly. She'd improved vastly in sword fighting according to Aragorn, her mentor. Her marksmanship had improved out of sight although moving targets were still a little out of her ability. She knew for a fact that swordsmanship was her true forte. She did have an outlying advantage as she applied a lot of what she'd learnt in martial arts and had a history with ancient display weaponry such as a Katana.

They had seen not had any encounters since they'd left the Elven realm of Lórien. They'd just gone through the gorge of Argonath. The sun was still high in the sky which was the primary reason for their stop. Legolas had been on edge about Aragorn's decision of waiting until dark to leave their spot. Aragorn had decided to wait out the day and let everyone recover before they went the last leg of their journey to Mordor. Parties of Uruk-hai had been set loose from Isengard in search of the ring-bearer and his friends. Legolas could sense them as they first came to shore.

She'd, once again, ridden with the hobbits and Aragorn; and in this time, she'd learnt a good deal about hobbits and the Shire. She'd been particularly amused when Pippin and Merry recalled how 'Strider' or known to her as Aragorn had not fully grasped the concept of two breakfasts when they'd first journeyed together to Rivendell. Soon after, the Fellowship had been created and the quest to destroy The Ring had begun. Once Sam had discovered that she was in fact a good chef in her world, he'd often enlist her to help him out with cooking meals. She'd taken on the big sister role pretty well- or at least she'd like to think she did. Guinevere spoke with Gimli and Legolas as often as possible although it was virtually impossible to get the two to start a decent conversation without them first debating the flaws of the other race.

She'd also realised that the woven bag she'd received from Lady Galadriel had contained a few hidden items. At the first glance she'd only found a change of clothes, some packages of Lembas bread and an elvish dagger. However upon a second exploration of the plush material, she'd also found a peculiar artefact. From a thin silver chain hung a small crystal vial. There was a lightly tinted liquid contained within it. A healing potion- she recognised it from her extensive reading during her stay in Rivendell. There were very few knew of it in Middle Earth and even fewer who possessed it. Of course, as with every little power, there _was _a quirk- she could never let the injured party see her heal with it otherwise the potion would lose its healing quality.

They took minimal stops which often resulted in her almost half dead by the end of the day. The Fellowship stopped well into the thick of the night and rose at first light. When they did rest, they would pair up and take watches throughout the course of the night. While Guinevere was a light-sleeper, the Fellowship at learnt that she'd often have trouble staying awake unless someone would engage her attention. Her watch companion would be from the talkative half of the Fellowship, namely Merry, Pippin or Gimli. She'd also been on watch a few times with Aragorn. He only spoke occasionally which was a subtle but nice change. She pry him until he'd tell her tales of his time as a ranger. Most of the time, he'd just sit there and stared at her deeply. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she thought of it. When she was around him, she felt something she'd never even dreamt of. It was like she was…

"Lady Guinevere." Guinevere broke out of her contemplations and looked to Sam. He stood meekly in front of her with a pan in hand.

"I hope you don't mind. I was hoping that you'd assist me in making the meal for this afternoon." She smiled contently at him

"Of course Sam. And _how _many times have I told you to call me Guinevere."

"You'll have to remind him a couple more Guinevere. I've known him since we were boys and he _still _calls me Mr Frodo." Frodo called from across the campfire they'd made.

As Legolas and Gimli were about launch into another argument she heard Merry call for Legolas "I was hoping you'd tell us how much further the journey to Mordor will be."

Boromir had strangely disappeared again which had become a surprisingly frequent occurrence. Aragorn away from the others was staring into the forest like one would a fortune-teller's glass ball.

"Are you okay?" Guinevere asked him as she sat down beside him. He acknowledged her presence averted his eyes from the wilderness momentarily but he still couldn't look at her.

"I…I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

"I-I was two years old when my father was killed. My mother took me to Rivendell hoping to hide me away from prying eyes. I never really knew my parents; they were both taken from me very early. On my twentieth birthday, Lord Elrond called me into his study and revealed my true lineage. I was the descendant, the last of a bloodline to a man whom I never known nor met. It was him who sealed my destiny as the future King of Gondor. The man I'd considered king of Gondor was actually the steward of the realm. I was the heir to Isildur's throne."

Guinevere remained silent at his confession. There was nothing she could say that would ease his pain. She held her tongue, wisely considering her next words.

"So what's got you on edge? Having pre-coronation jitters?" She nudged him softy with a smirk.

She mentally patted herself on the back when Aragorn cracked a small wistful smile. "No. There is still quite some time before any coronation happens…if it happens."

"What do you mean?"

"Guinevere, in order to claim the throne of Gondor I have to make sure that it doesn't fall into the hands of Sauron. If…If Gondor falls, then any good left in this world will be lost forever."

"But there's something more than that." She sensed.

"They are call me Isildur's heir."

Guinevere stared at him confused "Well aren't you?"

"Yes...I-I am his descendant. His blood is the same that flows in my veins. However with that blood comes a curse. You see, the ring betrayed Isildur to his death. Outnumbered by a pack of orcs he fled with the Ring. Once The Ring is worn, its wearer becomes partially or entirely invisible. However when the Ring is worn, it also causes the wearer to have an unhealthy obsession with it…He tried to swim across the Anduin but the Ring slid off his finger. When he lost it, it almost as though his lifeline was destroyed. He drowned himself."

Now Guinevere understood what this was about. "And you're worried that the Ring will have a similar effect on you." As he nodded, she placed a hand on his own that rested on his knee. "You have his blood, Aragorn but you're not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his fate. You won't make the same mistakes he did. When the time comes, you will make the right decision and resist it. No matter what happens: you will _not _fail."

Her thumb rubbed gentle soothing circles on the back of his hand. "How do you know that?"

She very nearly growled at him as he spoke. "Look at me." When refused to, she adamantly squeezed his hand in a crushing grip causing him to look up. As his other hand came up to free the other, she held hers over it. "You are the man destined to be King of Gondor. And believe me, you'll see that day. _He_ may have succumbed to the Ring but you will learn from his mistakes. Your fate is not to die like Isildur but to live and bring prosperity and peace to your kingdom. To reunite the world of men and to rekindle friendships with the others of your world. Until then, you have to help guide the ring-bearer and to defeat Sauron." For the first time since they'd met, she stared straight into those hypnotising blue eyes.

"Thank you."

"Lady Guinevere!" Sam's voice brought her out of her Aragorn induced haze.

"Coming Sam. Just a minute." She let her grip on the ranger's hands go immediately feeling their warmth seep away in the cool air.

"You are making lunch?" He asked her softly. He looked so vulnerable; it made her heart ache.

"Mmhh. Stew today. I see you've missed it."

"I have."

She chuckled "Oh, I'm sure it is not up to royal tastes so Boromir may have qualms but I tell you! The dangerous folk around here. Well, they will just take whatever is given to them." She squeezed his shoulder and then left to find Sam. What she didn't see was his eyes linger on her retreating figure.

"This is the best stew I've tasted lass." Guinevere blushed as she ladled some more into Gimli's bowl.

"I'm guessing the hobbits want seconds." She turned around to fill up Merry, Pippin and Sam's bowls again. Frodo had vanished and Sam was quite downtrodden by it.

"Don't worry Sam. I'll find him. He's just tired." She reasoned softly and filled up Frodo's abandoned bowl. Yes, this was her role in the Fellowship to take on the role of a nagging mother, wife or sister depending on your frame of reference.

"Frodo." She whispered watching the forlorn hobbit stare into the wilderness. He didn't acknowledge her.

"Come. Have some stew. Sam told it's a hobbit favourite." Still he said nothing.

"Please Frodo. If not for me, for Sam. He's been worrying about you even more than I have."

"Well he should stop! I don't need his help and I don't need your help!" Frodo threw the bowl on the ground and stomped away. She sighed and watched a few drops of stew roll away into the grass in front of her.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

NOTE: You can skip all the notes except Notice 2 since that is very relevant to the plot.

Other notes: (1) Follows the movie with parts added from the book. (2) I've decided that Guinevere never finished reading the novels. She's only read up to Boromir's death. (3) I've introduced Belan into the story in this chapter but he'll also play a bigger part in the next ones. (4) The _italics _are memories or thoughts depending on context- it should be understandable. (5) This chapter was primarily to give background on what has happened and character developments. More action, I promise, in the next one. (6) Yes last note- sorry-: Please try not to picturize the scenes exactly the same as in the film. Some things (like boat dimensions) have been changed.

**A/N: So what did you think? I wanted a little more Aragorn and Guinevere interaction on a personal note so their moment just felt right. As for the 'Dumb and Dumber' quote, I just couldn't resist. I realise Frodo may seem a little 'not-so-nice' at the end but I just wanted to reflect on how the ring has been affecting him. This contemplation chapter gave me some time to weave into the character's minds and their thoughts (as you have guessed Guinevere is perceptive). I really do hope you have enjoyed this- and I hope I edited it correctly because I changed so much in this chapter from the original text...Ah well! Please leave reviews! They're always welcome! ****Satin****é. **


	7. Chapter 6: Lost Causes

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm not exactly feeling the best- I think I've caught a cold but I was desperate to update today. I've been so overjoyed at the reception this story has garnered over the last week or so.**** Since my last update, my favourites _and _followers has increased making me deliriously happy. There may be slightly more mistakes in this chapter since I've been too sick to reread it before posting. You may also notice that subtle spelling or grammatical errors in previous chapters have vanished- that's because I tend to re-read my work and in doing so, often come across minor errors.**** Being the 'perfectionist' I am, I tend to fix them ASAP. **

**Anyways, it may be helpful to know that this chapter backtracks a bit from the last one. The last one finished with Guinevere making soup (for lunch not dinner- changed from last post). This chapter begins when they actually arrive at the site. ****I really hope this is what you've been waiting for and more to come soon. The next chapter is already written up so I'll be updating over next weekend as usual- maybe even earlier :) ****Satin****é**

******_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 6: Lost Causes

"We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot." Aragorn ordered as he felt something catch his glimpse momentarily. Legolas grasped his forearm. "Something is not right. There is some evil which lurks here Aragorn. Darkness drawers here." Aragorn nodded in agreement.

Gimli had taken to complaining as he described their route with more exaggerations than Aragorn deemed possible. The hobbits had all frozen in horror and now were staring at the dwarf wide-eyed. Guinevere had distracted Sam into making a fire and some food while Merry and Pippin had woken and now were smoking their pipes. Just as Guinevere was about to mention it, Merry beat her to it. "Where is Frodo?" Both Aragorn and Guinevere were felt that something was not quite right. It was confirmed when they saw Boromir's shield braced against a tree…and only the shield.

Aragorn and Guinevere had ventured in opposite directions hoping to track their missing hobbit. When Aragorn finally found him near a stone pavilion structure high on a cliff, Frodo very nearly jumped out of his skin. Something had set off his anxiety.

"It has taken Boromir." Frodo told him, fear still welled in his eye.

"Where _is _the ring?" Aragorn forcefully asked striding to him.

The young hobbit scrambled away from his approaching figure. "Stay away!"

Guinevere's hearing perked up as she heard Frodo's cry. She immediate doubled the pace of her run. She followed the voice until she reached a large stone. Her shock momentarily distracted her when she realised that it resembled a large stone head the size of a mountain.

"Can you protect me from yourself? Would you take it?"

Guinevere's heels dug into the earth rooted her at the very same spot that Aragorn had been standing in moments ago. She stumbled forward as she watched Aragorn's eyes glaze over as he inched closer and closer to proffered ring in Frodo's palm. "Don't." Her lips spoke the words but her throat clenched so no sound came out. She couldn't intervene; it was not her place. This was between Aragorn and the ring. She willed him to remain strong as her gaze was fixed on the ranger and hobbit.

She released a breath that she did not know she was holding when Aragorn's hand curled around Frodo's balling it up into a fist.

"I would've gone with you to the end. Into the very fires of Mordor." By the end his words were no more than a hoarse whisper.

Frodo nodded acknowledging this and then looked over his shoulder to her. "I need to do this. Alone."

Guinevere bit back a plea to stay behind, knowing in her heart that it was better that she let him go. She reached around her neck and removed one of the two necklaces she donned. This was a black rope with a filed shard of the Tiger Eye stone. She placed it around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Whenever you feel your courage failing, _this _will remind you of what you have to fight for Frodo. Stay safe. Even when we are not by your side, we are still with you and we still fight for you. Know this in your heart." Both were taken aback when Aragorn abruptly unsheathed his sword. Their eyes followed his gaze was focused on the Sting, watching the blade glow blue.

"Take care of them. Especially Sam. He will not…"

Guinevere cut him off nodding. "I know. I will."

"Go." Aragorn urged Frodo. "Go!" He now was on edge, very nearly yelling it in urgency.

Frodo backed away hesitantly and then broke into a run as he scampered down the stone steps. Guinevere was torn between following Frodo to ensure that he was safe or helping Aragorn. The man himself had seen her conflict and exchanged a defiant glance with her. "You go. Make sure he stays safe." She went to protest but he interrupted her "I will hold them off for as long as I can." Her brow creased in worry as she moved in the direction of the steps. She turned around once she reached the flight to look at him one last time. He nodded and she left the stone altar.

Aragorn turned to the sound of heavy footsteps. His expression had grown into something which could only be described as vengeful. His determination to keep the Uruk-hai at bay fuelled him as he decidedly slashed his sword, swinging it back and forth creating fatal wounds in every Uruk-hai that got within attacking range. Every small cut he received, he ignored impaling his sword into the offending Uruk-hai with only Frodo on his mind.

Guinevere steeled her toes trying to find a grip amongst the stones and moss. She saw a few Uruk-hai run in her direction and swiftly ducked behind a tree. Her heart heaved and panted, trying to abate the growing fear in her heart. Their primitive growls caused her to wince slightly and all she could wonder was if Frodo was far enough from them.

"Hey! Hey! Over here!" _Oh no…_She'd have recognised that voice anywhere: her two hobbits, Merry and Pippin. _What were they doing? _Her thoughts cried. A distraction…they were providing a distraction to help Frodo escape from his hiding place.

She sprinted as fast as her legs could take her. In the corner of her eye, Guinevere could've sworn that she'd spotted Frodo clambering down the stony ridge. Merry and Pippin meanwhile had resorted to running in the opposite direction, leading them farther away from Frodo. Once far enough, they turned around with their small swords drawn in fear. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a Uruk-hai raise his sword high above his head. She would not reach them in time for she was too far.

Relief swept through her fragile figure as she saw Boromir dive in front of them, effectively blocking the strike. Boromir slashed his way through the large hoards of Uruk-hai which were growing by the minute.

It was sheer luck that caused her to notice an archer, one of the key figures in the pack, with his bow drawn. She mounted an arrow of her own and within ten seconds, the arrow had cut through the air and lodged itself in the archer's neck. She breathed a sigh of relief before promptly turning alert as this movement has caused attention to where she had been concealed.

She unsheathed her sword fluidly and began to fight with renewed spirit. Almost distantly, she heard the Horn of Gondor sound and she fought even harder. Her blade was lodged in the enemy's chest; she drew it out with a sharp tug and swung it in front of her decapitating another two simultaneously.

As she passed the tree, Guinevere now had a clear view on the two hobbits and Boromir. Her attention was strangely drawn to some shrubbery on the side of the 'battlegrounds.' And it was here that she saw a second archer with his arrow already mounted. Slaying Uruk-hai left and right, she watched in horror as his arrow pierced Boromir's chest plate.

The surprise on Boromir's face was evident as he keeled over in agonising pain. She made her way to him, duelling at a more rapid rate and stepping over Uruk-hai corpses in the process. He'd turned around to face the hobbits he protected and with a sudden will to fight once again, he pushed back the pain and resumed fighting. Another arrow had been aimed in his direction and against his chest was bleeding from the arrowhead piercing the skin.

Boromir collapsed on his knees and she covered him enough to, by chance, deflect another arrow aimed at them. She began to push the Uruk-hai so that they were shielded from the archer but the archer was relentless. He killed his comrade and once again aimed for her. This time however, the arrowhead had hit a major artery in her leg. She crumpled into a heap, blindly waving her sword about. The wound bled freely, staining the dry leaves underneath. A white light covered her vision as she cried out. "Merry, Pippin RUN!" She couldn't hear herself as she screamed it but she obviously had as the two hobbits attempted to flee.

Both she and Boromir were overpowered and tears pricked her eyes at their failure as Merry and Pippin were effortlessly hoisted over their enemy's shoulder. Their screams and pleas echoed like a curse in her mind but her body was too feeble, too broken to move.

The rest of the band ran past the two injured warriors who were writhing in severe hurt. Guinevere's forearm had a deep gash carved into it rendering her unable to prepare an arrow. Boromir, meanwhile, had fallen conscious but limp beside her. Both awaited their fate- inevitable death.

As a single Uruk-hai loomed above them, Guinevere sudden began to remember all the prayers that had been instilled in her since she was a child. Absolute trepidation had overtaken her. It was _knowing _that this impending blow would cause her death without her being able to fight back that was the root of her fear.

The sword was braced in front of the Uruk-hai as he laughed cruelly at their haplessness. Guinevere clenched her eyes waiting for the final blow. It seemed that Boromir too has resigned himself to this fate as his hand searched blindly over hers before covering it. However, the excruciating pain never came. Upon opening her eyes, she saw her saviour- Aragorn- wielding his sword with the skill of a king.

His body was battered with blood and grit all over his skin and clothes. His sword was drenched in black Uruk-hai gore. _Blood…_She gagged at the odour.

He fought furiously before at last thrusting his long blade into the Uruk-hai's chest before soundly beheading him. "Aragorn" His name was but a weary whisper from her parched lips. He knelt beside her body before gathering her into his arms. "Where are you hurt?" He asked tenderly examining her wounds. Boromir answered for her but she was insistent that Aragorn tend to Boromir first.

Guinevere hoisted herself up onto her forearms, wincing as her fast felt the dirt invade it. Aragorn's conflict was evident as he assessed the arrows embedded in his brother-in-arms. One had hit an artery in the shoulder and there was another more fatal one lodged in his chest.

"They took t-the little o-ones." Boromir choked out as he was braced against an oak tree.

Aragorn nodded absently. "Hold still." His gaze was trained on the arrowheads as his hands went to pull the arrows but Boromir's hands came over his in a shaky attempt to stop it.

"Leave it. It is over."

Guinevere began to sob heavily as she scrambled over to the pair with her injured leg trailing behind her. "No it isn't. It can't be."

"You cannot help me Guinevere. Let it go." Boromir told her softly with a soothing stroke of her knuckles.

"I can. I-I know I c-can." She managed to get out between sobs.

Sudden realisation dawned over him as he gripped Aragorn's forearm harshly "Frodo! Where is Frodo?" He heaved, his head lolling to the side.

"I let him go."

"Forgive me. I tried to take the Ring from him. I did not see it coming. I have failed you all."

"No Boromir. You fought with honour. You redeemed yourself. Now cast aside your worries. Legolas, we'll make camp here tonight. Gimli…"

Guinevere had anticipated this and cut him off. "You go."

"The Fellowship has failed Lady Guinevere." Gimli retorted.

Aragorn shook his head "Not if we hold true to each other."

As she lay writhing in pain, Guinevere couldn't help but add her two cents to his motivation…speech "You go and save Merry and Pippin. We'll find you. Go."

"I'm not leaving you alone Guinevere!" He demanded.

"They need you. We'll only slow you down Aragorn. You don't have a choice! Frodo needs help, you promised to help him until either the quest failed or you…" She left the words unsaid. "When the time comes, we'll join you Aragorn. I promise."

He was reluctant but Legolas put a hand on his shoulder. "The longer we delay, the less time Merry and Pippin have, Aragorn. We must leave now if we are to save them."

Aragorn's eyes bore into her own trying to convince her otherwise but to no avail. "Go." The simple but firm command made him relent. There was no arguing with her "If you wish it but I would rather stay with you. Your leg..."

"Will heal. I can do it myself. It needs time."

Aragorn still didn't seem convinced but he didn't need to be because evidently he was preparing to leave.

"Leave anything unnecessary. We travel light." Aragorn called behind him to Legolas and Gimli.

Boromir was slightly delirious but he felt Aragorn clasp his hand and Legolas grip his shoulder. He gripped his dagger which lay on the ground forgotten. He gripped it with his last strength and held it over his heart. "I would've followed you to the end. My brother. My Captain. My King." He went unconscious. Gimli patted him on the back.

"Last chance to change your mind Guinevere."

"I know Aragorn. Do not worry about us. We'll see you very soon. But go! Don't waste any more time here!"

Aragorn nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. His other two companions stripped themselves of everything but their clothes and weapons. "Take care Guinevere."

"You too Legolas. I will be fine."

"Ye'll get better lass. We'll remember ya."

"Thank you Gimli."

The man, dwarf and elf looked at each other "Let's go hunt some orc!" Aragorn told them and with a final glance in her direction, he ran off into the forest. Legolas smiled his eyes shining with pride and followed his leader. Gimli waved his axe with a large toothy grin as he ran behind the elf.

Guinevere watched them until there was nothing but darkness in her view. She then turned around instantly to Boromir who lay unmoving with his wounds bleeding profoundly. Taking advantage of his unconscious state, Guinevere gritted her teeth and with a grimace, very nearly tore the arrow out of his shoulder. She was glad that he was not awake as she did this; the pain would be excruciating. The removal of the second arrow was the one she feared. If she accidentally twisted it the wrong way and displaced it, it might hit a vital organ. Pulling out of the second arrow, she pushed it away from them disgustedly before turning her attention on him again.

She fingered the crystal vial that hung around her neck on a silver chain. "Come on Boromir! You're not dying on me yet!" She murmured roughly unclasping the chain before feeding him a few drops of the elixir through a leaf. She waited with bated breath but Boromir had not regained consciousness. Tears spilled over her eyes and she clutched his shoulders. For such a small person, she often forgot how much strength she had. "Please Boromir. Your men need you, the fellowship need you…I need you. You can't leave me here alone son of Denethor!" Her words began to get louder as she removed his tunic deftly. Disinfecting the wounds, she began to bandage him up.

It was but a few hours after Boromir's death scare that a veil of stars had fallen over them. The only light for miles on end was the small bundle of firewood being burnt. A dull ache had spread over her leg; she'd prevented the wound from infection but they would be stranded for quite some time unless they found another method of travelling. Her musings were interrupted when she heard a gasp of pain come from beside her.

A sharp pain seared through Boromir's chest as he tried to blindly sit up. A gentle hand eased him back to his previous position. "You're okay. Thanks goodness. You got hurt pretty bad." Her melodious and thankfully quiet voice sounded over the rushing in his ears. His eyes opened to what seemed like a vision. He'd succumbed to the darkness as Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were still deciding their course of action. Now, however, it was only Guinevere who remained with him. Her features were clearer as his blurred vision improved. Her face was illuminated by the fire behind her.

"How am I still alive?" As he became coherent, this was the first question that came to mind.

"I...helped you. How are you feeling?"

"I am as well as can be expected I suppose. How is your leg?"

"Not overtly bothersome- I'll live."

She offered her leg to him and he unravelled the bandage. The cut was noticeably deep and no doubt it would not heal easily. The edges were filled with slight puss. "I did treat it properly." She assured him.

"Did you take the arrows out yourself?"

She nodded quietly still her eyes still roaming his bandaged wounds "Yes."

Boromir took a different approach this time choosing to acknowledge the pot of stew that hung over the fire.

"Yes. Do you think you can stomach anything?" It was the first time she'd actually looked up at him since he awoke. She gave him the ghost of a smile and then scrambled on two arms to the fire, ladling some warm stew.

"Fresh from the fire your grace." She joked presented it to him. "Is it to your liking?" He hushed inquiry made him smile.

"Milady, I was contemplating whether it would be unfit for me to guzzle this down like a starved beast and then ask for more." He replied.

She blushed "I am glad." Her attention was for a second turned away from him.

"What are you thinking of Lady Guinevere?"

She looked at him with a pointed frown "I wonder if Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli are close to the Uruk-hai." Her gaze was contemplating her thoughts. Boromir decided to remain quiet. Both sat in a companionable silence watching the dancing flames of red and orange.

Morning greeted them with better tidings than the day before. The skies were painted with hues of red and orange as the sun rose from the east. Aragorn woke at first light and quickly shook Legolas and Gimli awake. All three set out again with memories of a wounded Guinevere telling them to run and help their hobbit friends. _I wonder, is she well? _Aragorn thought to himself but apparently he'd said it out loud. He heard Legolas "I'm sure _they_'re fine." He gave Aragorn a pointed glance as he trekked in front of the ranger. Aragorn mentally chided himself for his trip up. And so they ran; Legolas now in front with Aragorn closely following him and Gimli a little further behind.

Guinevere and Boromir meanwhile had spent the previous two days resting in the same spot that they'd fallen. Their campfire had been put out earlier that morning after Guinevere had treated them to sausages for breakfast.

"How are you faring Boromir?"

He looked up from his empty plate "Well enough I suppose. I have healed enough to travel."

She sighed "It's better we wait it out. I'll be a little slow on my limp leg."

Boromir ran a hand over his face in frustration. "How long do you think we can stay here?"

If he was not so deeply perplexed by their present situation, he would've laughed at her comical expression. She abruptly looked up with cheeks puffed up with food and her large eyes opened even wider than he deemed possible. "Not long enough. The servants of Sauron will be swarming this place soon. They come closer and closer to us by the day."

Boromir nodded his agreement "Aye; and we'll be faster if we travelled on horseback." Guinevere was about to reply when her sensitive hearing caught something.

Her head perked up abruptly "Something's not right." Her words were punctuated with a rustling in the hedge-grow not too far away. Boromir's hand reached out for the hilt of his sword which was propped up against the tree trunk he sat on.

The joyful cry that escaped her lips couldn't even describe a fraction of the relief that she felt when she saw Belan and another horse emerge. "Hello boy. Now what have we here?" She asked him softly as he came towards her and bent down nudging her neck with his nose. Boromir looked on in confusion "Stay away Guinevere! He's a horse of the Nazgûl!" Boromir went to lift his sword but she stopped him. "No Boromir. I met Belan while we stayed at Lothlórien. He took a special liking to me." She stroked his muzzle daintily. "And it seems he brought a friend." She turned to the white mare who had taken a new interest in Boromir. She saw a note on Belan's harness and unfolded it with unsteady fingers.

_Where ever he leads and to whomever he finds, may he grant you a safe passage through these evil infested lands. His loyalty remains with you until the end of eternity._

Boromir pushed himself up using the tree and went over shakily to the snow-white horse. He stroked her unblemished coat. "Well their arrival is opportune. It seems Belan knows when his mistress needs his help." He chuckled. His next words were in true seriousness "Are you well enough to travel?" She bit her lip "Yes, I suppose. We should leave now. We'll follow Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli's path and see where it leads us."

Boromir helped her up onto her own horse before mounting, albeit with some difficulty, his own. "And follow it, we shall." He grinned at her.

Gimli muttered to himself as he forced himself to run further. They had been tailing the Uruk-hai for three days and three nights without heeding the rise and set of the sun. They took small breaks when they needed to and would only sleep as long as necessary. He caught his breath as Aragorn knelt and put his ear to a large rock about 20 feet from him. "Their pace has quickened." He looked up "They must have caught our scent. Hurry!" Gimli grumbled again as the ranger sped off into the distance and Legolas told him to get up again. He ran after his companions with beads of sweat pouring down his face.

They did not let anything hinder their path not rock nor stones nor endless green plains. Aragorn suddenly halted in next to a stone ridge. Legolas stopped behind him and looked back to see that Gimli had caught up. The ranger saw something vaguely shine in the ground and bent down to pick it up. An Elven brooch…the very same that was the clasp on their cloaks gifted from Lothlórien. "Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall." He murmured quietly, more to himself than his companions. Legolas commented that their friends may yet be alive to which Aragorn added that in less than a day's journey they would gain the tribe of Uruk-hai. Gimli stumbled out from behind the rocks and once again they set off not letting the dwarf rest. "I…am wasted on cross-country! We dwarves…are…natural sprinters! Very…dangerous over s…short distances." He panted harshly.

"Legolas, what do your Elf eyes see?" Aragorn called to the elf who skimmed the landscape. "The Uruks turn northeast." He turned "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!" He exclaimed.

Upon Gimli's grumbling insistence, the trio had finally decided to rest properly for the night. Meanwhile, their kidnapped friends Merry and Pippin lay on the ground with their hands bound. They watched in doubt as the Uruk-hai camp settled near a forest. With primal screams, they began to axe down the trees. A complaint soon arose about their meals for the past few days. One immediately added that flesh would be a more suitable diet. They all instinctively turned to the hobbits. "What about these ones?" Another disagreed saying that they were not to be eaten and beheaded the suggester with his sword. The creatures began to devour his body throwing the organs away from them. The entire band huddled together attempting to push each other out of the way. Once his body was forgotten, they turned back to Merry and Pippin for "a small bite".

The terrified hobbits were saved from their fate as food when twenty or so arrows showered the Uruk-hai camp. Both tried to run away but an Uruk-hai stepped on Pippin's back. "Call for help. Scream." He chuckled evilly. Merry breathed a sigh of relief when the Uruk-hai fell to the ground with an arrow to the neck, only to look up and see two rearing horse hooves standing over him.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed that. So the Fellowship has been split up now. And Boromir lives, yay! He's a great character and his presence in the remainder of the story is going to be very influential to the battle at the Pelennor Fields. A lot of this text was taken from the film and then altered in places to fit in Guinevere. Belan has arrived with no intention of leaving for the remainder of the novel- I love horses! I hope that I portrayed the characters like I meant to; for example: Aragorn leaving Guinevere and Boromir- at first it seems like a decision that he wouldn't make but as the leader, his rational side believes to save those that he can. Boromir is a goner and Guinevere would not survive the rest of the journey so he focused his attempts on Merry and Pippin as he could rescue them. **

**Since I love you all so much, here's a quick preview of the next chapter which may come up before the next weekend:**

_"Since when have orcs ventured this far north?"_

_She wearily ran a hand over her face. "The fires of Isengard have already begun to spread. Sauron's eye is on the world of men- one weak and vulnerable to his army. Soon he will strike…and strike hard."_

_"But now is not the time." Boromir said knowingly._

_"Agreed. War is coming to Middle-Earth. However until it has truly begun, Sauron will increase his influence over these lands in an attempt to stop Frodo from destroying the Ring."_

_"So these were Sauron's scavengers sent to search for Frodo."_

_"Yes...and to take captive any who know of his whereabouts."_

_Boromir shook his head "It still does not sit right with me. The borders of Rohan have always been well protected. Could it be that Rohan has already fallen?"_

_..._

_Of course, her awe, like most things in her life, was short-lived. Her eyes were forcefully drawn from the beautiful sight as three other riders came into view. Her eyes narrowed considerably at their arrival. They were approaching her but she stayed Belan who seemed eager to run. "If I have kill or see any more evil things today, I am going to drop a nuclear bomb on Mordor, courtesy of a dragon. I do __not _plan on dying today and definitely not because someone can't be bothered to pick up a book for their own amusement." She rambled grumpily.


	8. Chapter 7: Bound To Their Fate

**A/N: Hello. Here is the early update. If I get enough response, I will consider posting the next chapter this weekend- otherwise it may be next week, especially since I have an important report to write up ASAP. Thanks DeityofDeadlyRose for letting me know. I will do my best to make those parts easier to read but as far as I've written, there aren't many of them in the future. So onto story related notes, there are none! ****You already have an inkling of what is to happen so... Enjoy! Satin****é**

**********_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 7: Bound To Their Fate

The elf, ranger and dwarf were gaining on the band of Uruk-hai when they heard the galloping of horse hooves. They ducked behind some large boulders and waited for the riders to pass. Their banners were held proudly as they fluttered in the wind. Aragorn nodded to Legolas and Gimli as he came out of hiding. "Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?" Upon hearing his words they turned around and gathered into a circular battle formation around the warriors. Their spears were pointed menacingly at their enemy. As Aragorn convinced them of their friendship, Éomer informed them of their raid on a band of Uruk-hai a few leagues away near the edge of Fangorn Forest.

The Uruk-hai corpses had been burnt. Evident remorse filled him as he delivered them the news. He lent them Hasufel and Arod whose original riders had perished in the battle; and with that left in a northern direction. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli rode off hastily to the burning pile of carcasses. Each would not do anything but pray that they would not uncover the dead bodies of Merry and Pippin among the smouldering heap.

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin had barely escaped the clutches of their captors and ran into Fangorn Forest. There, they were saved by some soon-to-be friends in the rather large figures of Ent. Treebeard, the apparent leader, had saved Merry from the Uruk-hai that had followed them into Fangorn Forest when they escaped…But little did the two hobbits realise that these new acquaintances would eventually play a crucial part in the war against evil.

Boromir and Guinevere had also had an adventure. The pair had been riding hard since the early morning, eager to continue with their journey. Their misfortune was different from their friends'. They'd run into a pack of orcs across the border the afternoon before.

_Guinevere groaned as her vision blurred slightly and her sore hand felt blindly for the hilt of her sword. She'd been thrown off Belan. She collected herself and felt a presence looming over her. The silver blade caught the sun and shone into her eyes painfully. She heard a chilling laugh above her and tensed. Her stiffened fingers brushed the handle of her sword and she promptly swung it blindly, gasping in relief as she heard the orc groan painfully. Belan shielded her from the other two that approached her by rearing fiercely. She blinked twice and almost unconsciously ran another two orcs through with her blade. She brushed away the sheer layer of sweat on her forehead and looked to Boromir who soundly beheaded the final orc of the pack. _

_The Gondorian and his lady companion exchanged a bewildered glance._

_"Orcs?" Although she said it aloud, it was meant for herself more than her companion._

_"Since when have orcs ventured this far north?"_

_She wearily ran a hand over her face. "The fire of Isengard have already begun to spread. Sauron's eye is on the world of men- one weak and vulnerable to his army. Soon he will strike…and strike hard."_

_"But now is not the time." Boromir said knowingly._

_"Agreed. War is coming to Middle-Earth. However until it has truly begun, Sauron will increase his influence over these lands in an attempt to stop Frodo from destroying the Ring."_

_"So these were Sauron's scavengers sent to search for Frodo."_

_"Yes and to take captive, any that know of his whereabouts."_

_Boromir shook his head "It still does not sit right with me. The borders of Rohan have always been well protected. Could it be that Rohan has already fallen?"_

_Guinevere did not reply._

_"There is an evil plaguing these lands." His ominous words made her shiver._

Both Guinevere and Boromir had been severely distraught since their encounter with the vile creatures of Sauron. There was definitely something unsettling about Rohan but what this evil was, neither could tell.

Guinevere pulled on Belan's reins causing the stallion to stop dead in his tracks with Boromir's white mare in tow. The rider looked up "Where to from here?" As decided, they'd arrived within seeing distance of Fangorn Forest. "Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas are god knows where."

Boromir's eyes lit up "We could go to my city."

Guinevere sighed "It is true that Gondor will need a leader very soon but there is still time."

"Guinevere the only other place that would receive us is Isengard or Mordor. Neither of which holds any appeal in my eyes. Something tells me that we will not receive a warm welcome in Edoras."

Guinevere stared up at him immediately "Edoras?"

"The capital of Rohan. Here resides Théoden King, Lord of the Mark."

"Maybe we should go there."

Boromir sighed running a hand through his dishevelled hair "Gondor and Rohan had long forgone their friendship. I would not be welcome there." As he eyed the exhausted lady beside him, he saw a glint in her doe brown eyes.

"What is it? What do you suggest?"

Guinevere looked at the field in front of her with a deep breath. "I do not…you go to Gondor and I to Rohan."

His eyes widened in understanding "No! Absolutely _not_!"

"I am merely suggesting…" He cut her off sharply.

"That is not an option. Where-ever we go, we go together. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Sauron has eyes all over Middle-Earth, if he finds you…"

Guinevere stubbornly refused to acknowledge this "I disagree. Belan will accompany me to Rohan. He will take care of me."

"There is no need for me to go to Gondor…"

"_Yes there is!_" She insisted and he went silent. "Denethor is going to drive Gondor to ruin and there is none who can stay him other than yourself. Faramir will give in to your father's demands! You yourself said that. Who else can save Gondor from its doomed fate!?"

A hundred miles of good riding constituted not only an avid friendship between companions but also a good deal of conversation. Boromir's homesickness had driven to describe his life before the quest to destroy the Ring had begun.

Minas Tirith. The White City. With walls of white marble and tall as the heavens, his home lay in all its glory just beyond the mountains bordering Mordor. A tall white needle glistened catching the light high above the first level of the city. It towered over its residents daring all who will, to penetrate its well protected walls. And it seemed that Sauron would answer this unspoken challenge.

If Denethor II, son of Ecthelion remained on the throne, then Minas Tirith was destined to burn at Sauron's hands. The last free city of men and the largest civilizations of its time would fall.

When Isildur passed, there was no living heir so the throne was passed down the line of stewards, caretakers of the throne. If Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli with or without Merry and Pippin were to arrive at Edoras as she hoped, then Denethor would not risk calling for aid. For he knew that with Théoden King came the heir of Gondor to reclaim the throne. When Strider, a mere ranger, has revealed himself as Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the news spread like wildfire and no doubt that this had reached Denethor's ears. The Steward was intoxicated with the riches and power of royalty- he would not relent until his dying day.

"What would you have me do?"

Guinevere smiled tenderly at his immediate subservience. "What you must Boromir. You know your city better than I."

"Yet I do not understand. Why must you travel to Rohan?"

"We need to start rekindling and forging allegiances with other kingdoms. If I ride to Rohan, perhaps there is chance that someone may see reason."

"Rohan? For all we know, Sauron may already claim Rohan. What then?"

"Even if Sauron decides to conquer Rohan first, he will not relent Boromir. He must take Gondor if he is to win this world."

"Why!?" Boromir growled.

"But they have nothing to lose! Gondor is the only free city that has something significant to lose. The only possible reason to attack Rohan first would be to have some sort of 'fortress' where Sauron can base his army. That…and manpower. Gondor alone cannot defeat Mordor _and _Isengard just as Sauron cannot alone defeat Gondor and Rohan."

Boromir's features clouded over. He was beginning, although unwillingly, to see reason. "There is no choice is here."

Guinevere placated him by placing her own small hand over his that held his horse's reins. "You need to go home. Make preparations. If Osgiliath is overrun, then it may be over."

Boromir looked at their joint hands "I cannot do this alone."

She smiled softly "You are never alone, son of Denethor. Your friends stand by you. You will know what to do when the time comes."

"Has your leg healed?" Of course, this was his major concern.

"It has. Truly, it has. I will be fine."

He nodded solemnly, reining his emotions in. "Take care Guinevere. I owe you my life. Perhaps we will meet each other soon."

Guinevere's lips grew to a gentle smile as she gripped his hands even fighter. "You owe my nothing. Ride safe my friend." His true smile was rare but in the rare event that it would appear, it could blind the very sun itself.

And here they parted.

Boromir to Gondor.

And Guinevere to Rohan.

Both bound by their promises to another.

While she rode hard and fast through the free plains of Rohan, Gollum was sitting on the ground with Frodo and Sam crouched precariously on a stone perch overlooking Morannon.

No one liked Sméagol, no one cared for Sméagol. He hadn't been cared about since they'd found the Precious. Gollum loved the ring but then that nasty hobbit from the Shire stole the Precious from him. They wanted it back. It was his. _Theirs. _It was theirs.

They'd been weary when they'd been thrown from Mordor. The nasty orcses had tortured them relentlessly until, between their endless babbling, Gollum had been able to shriek out two words. "Baggins…Shire!" They'd left them alone after that. Alone to go back to their residence. Yes residence, they lived there but it was no home. Gollum didn't have a home. Sméagol did…but not Gollum. At home, nice people took care of him and they liked it there. No one took care of Sméagol here. At least not until he met Master.

Gollum had come across the two unsuspecting hobbits amongst the rocks. They'd been sleeping and it was by chance that when the one with jet black hair turned in his sleep, a certain golden ring was revealed from under his filthy tunic.

Gollum descended the rock face, carefully though- the hobbit mustn't find out. But he'd been tricked, both the black-haired one and the fat one grabbed him each by the arm. Gollum writhed desperately; his only motive to gain the ring which had been taken from him. _Them_. Take from them.

Master had taken pity on him when the fat one wouldn't. Gollum had sworn on the Precious that they'd lead the two hobbits into Mordor. Master had cut the rope off them and Gollum had scampered in front of them leading the way.

Master liked to call him Sméagol. No one had called him that in a long time. He'd almost forgotten it. He liked it when Master called him Sméagol. The fat one called them other names that Gollum didn't like but Master was nice…unlike the fat one. He'd led them to the Black Gate. It was what the name suggested: a big black gate. There were many orcses there. They guarded the doors.

Gollum grumbled in panic when the fat one took a tumble over the edge. Master went behind him and hided them from the nasty orcses with his cloak. Master had his eye on the door and went to run toward it but Sméagol held him back. "No! No, no master! They catch you! Don't take it to him!" He exclaimed in his gravelly voice.

Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee had met a new…face and he'd joined them on their journey. According to Sam, he was a conniving thief that cared for nothing but the ring but Frodo refused to believe it. The creature Gollum had promised to lead them to the Black Gate and so far he'd not strayed from his word.

"The Black Gate of Mordor." Gollum introduced in his usual twisted way. Sam frowned at him and moved to sit next to Frodo. They watched on in silence as the Black Gate lurched gradually open with Orcs patrolling the walls and guarding the towers.

"Oh save us. My ol' Gaffer'd have a thing or two to say if he could see us now." Frodo's head ached and the Ring had taken its toll on him. He knew that he was not himself but there was nothing to be done about it. Sam accidently slid down the high cliff and Frodo naturally went behind him. Two of the army had come investigate but they hid like a large rock in the ground with Frodo's grey cloak concealing them. With bated breath they waited for the guards to leave.

Frodo clutched at his neck, not for the silver chain with the ring but for the black rope necklace that had been gifted to him by Guinevere. He felt for it with two fingers rubbing the stone with his thumb. Hope and faith. He fought for his friends, he fought for the Shire and he fought for the good of Middle Earth. His weariness couldn't dampen the hope in his heart.

He remembered the vision in Lady Galadriel's fountain. The Shire burning and filled with orcs and darkness. His home would not be bound to such a fate, not when he was still breathing. He tried to run for the gate but Gollum held him back. "No! No, no master! They catch you! Don't take it to him!" To Sam's utter dismay, Frodo chose to believe Gollum and decided to take a dark and more secret way…

Since joining the Fellowship, Guinevere had never had a moment's peace. There was always something evil lurking in the shadows waiting to strike. However, now there was nothing…well, nothing obvious. She wanted to ride fast for the fun of it and Belan, who seemed particularly relieved at being reunited with his mistress, complied eagerly. Riding was a comfort that she'd never sought in her world- it was too fast paced to be able to indulge in the small things in life.

Guinevere slowed Belan down a little in order for him to catch his breath. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon as she tried to make out her path to Edoras. Belan zealously began to run north-westward and Guinevere trusted him not to lead her astray.

Her mirth was barely concealed as both rider and horse stopped within ten miles of the city when she'd been granted the first sight of Edoras. Home of the horse lords. It suited them well and their architecture seemed speak quite a lot of it.

Endless plains with tall snow-capped mountains in the distance. The occasional moss was scattered over the ground with long wheat-like grass. Elevated on a mountain, the town reminded her of horse stables. Their architecture comprised of wood beams, decently sized cream walls and thatched rooves. Slim rigid planks of wood were sharpened at the tips like a spear. They were nailed together creating a barrier and the entrance was tall with a large watchtower above and gate-like structured doors that were wide open.

Of course, her awe, like most things in her life, was short-lived. Her eyes were forcefully drawn from the beautiful sight as three other riders came into view. Her eyes narrowed considerably at their arrival. They were approaching her but she stayed Belan who seemed eager to run. "If I have kill or see any more evil things today, I am going to drop a nuclear bomb on Mordor, courtesy of a dragon. I do _not _plan on dying today and definitely not because someone can't be bothered to pick up a book for their own amusement." She rambled grumpily.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

**A/N: So how did you like that? I've played with the idea of writing from Gollum/Sméagol point of view so please review and tell me if you liked it. Guinevere has arrived at Rohan and spotted some riders; wonder who they could be ;)... and Boromir is riding to Gondor. We'll see more of him in later chapters. He's a great character to write because there's so many feelings I can write him in and so pliable! He's such a complex character and flawed in his own human-ish way. Please leave reviews and thanks to all who have either followed or favourited this story. **


	9. Chapter 8: Lord of the Mark

**A/N: Welcome back to another chapter of 'And So The Journey Begins'. We left off with Guinevere spotting three riders, whose identity will now be revealed. Hopefully, you've been avidly waiting for this chapter. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story. A big thank you to my reviewers: those reviews mean a lot to me! :) **

**To my guest reviewer: 8 chapters in one day! Wow! I'm glad you are liking this story tons. Guinevere, I like to think, is a very original character. Ignorant about the world around her yet insightful enough to survive in it. Boromir will be coming back in a few chapters' time and I can't wait to post _that _chapter up! As for your input, yes. I definitely agree that I need to put in more dialogue. Chapters with a lot happening will have more dialogue, of course than my others but I will make a conscience effort to do so. Thanks!**

**I will leave you with one last thing: there are going to be _many _plot twists coming up! Now, you can enjoy the eighth chapter of 'And So The Journey Begins' **

**Satiné xx**

**************_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 8: Lord of the Mark

Guinevere squinted trying to make out the approaching riders' identity. Her gaze was drawn to the brilliant white horse which led the other two. The man wore pure white robes that glistened in the sunlight. At last, she got a glimpse of the rider's face and let out an unseemly shriek of delight. She dismounted Belan within seconds and threw herself into Gandalf's arms without a second thought.

Gandalf the White smiled indulgently at the young lady who embraced him.

"Gandalf!" She cried. Guinevere was unsure as to what she should feel: a part of her wanted to weep in relief and the other wanted to cry out in glee at his arrival. "I-I saw you fall…at the Mines of Moria. How is it possible?" She clutched his hands in a crushing grip as though afraid that he'd be a figment of her imagination.

"It is a long story my dear. I see that you have fared wonderfully in my absence." Gandalf chuckled.

She frowned at him "Well that is no reason to make it a habit of disappearing Gandalf."

He nodded and then motioned behind him. Gimli was first to greet her. She knelt to his height and in typical dwarfish fashion he embraced her, patting her on the back. "We are happy to see yer lass."

"As am I Gimli." She reassured him pleasantly before looking beyond him to the elf. "Legolas." She addressed him formally and Legolas frowned at the cold manner of her greeting "Perfectly prim as usual." She walked up to him until she was toe to toe with him. On her face was plastered a mock serious expression. His lips twitched but she was first to break out into laughter.

The force with which she jumped into his arms truly had astonished Legolas. He'd forgotten what a little firecracker she was. The new surge of energy that spread throughout the group was refreshing. "I think there is someone else who is eager to meet you." Legolas cocked his head to the side and she followed his hint. Aragorn was just as she'd remembered him although he seemed a little more weather-beaten than when she saw him last.

Aragorn stood with his horse's reins braced in his hands. He had been quite desolate since he'd left her behind with Boromir. He knew that Gandalf and Legolas being the most intuitive of the Fellowship were sick of it. He was also fuming that Boromir had left her alone but said nothing, in case of offending her.

Guinevere walked up to him hesitantly and tilted her chin slightly upwards. She lifted her eyes to his in greeting. "I told you I'd find you." She whispered. He nodded quietly, afraid that he'd hurt her in some way. He'd not received the same warm greeting that she'd given to Legolas, Gandalf and Gimli but still he was not presumptuous that he hadn't receive one.

That was why she'd surprised him when she'd thrown her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest and the shuddering breath she let go, told him that he had been missed. Legolas helpfully removed the reins from his hands so he could return the embrace.

Guinevere pulled back with slightly red tinted cheeks. Why he was so very different from the others she could not quite tell yet…

"Shall we continue on then?" Gandalf asked breaking the silence.

Just as she'd gone to mount her own steed, Gandalf had suddenly decided that she would benefit from riding with Aragorn. At first she'd refused blatantly, not willing to burden Aragorn but Gandalf was unyielding. Aragorn assisted her in getting into the saddle which she was thankful for; otherwise she'd had fallen flat on her face in trying to hoist herself up. The adrenaline had settled and Guinevere could feel how sore her legs had been from riding hours on end. What perhaps bewildered her the most in this reunion was that none had commented on Boromir's disappearance. She could tell that Aragorn had noticed it but she was rather stunned that Gandalf hadn't. Or perhaps if he did, he didn't let it on. One knowing glance thrown in her direction as Aragorn got into the saddle told her that Gandalf had noticed.

"I fear Saruman has claimed Rohan as his own…Do not expect to receive a warm welcome." Gandalf called from the howling winds. Aragorn sat nothing although his second arm unconsciously came around her effectively pulling her back into his chest.

Legolas and Gandalf entered the realm first side by side. As she and Aragorn followed, their attention was drawn to a fluttering banner that landed on the grass beside them. The rectangular forest green was lined with a two and a half inch thick border of maroon. In the middle a large white horse. It lay abandoned and Aragorn looked at with a feeling that she couldn't understand.

The town itself was bereft of any life; it felt morbid and cold, like all hope was lost to them. The building were faded and now closer to the architecture, she realised that there was an unusual combination of thatched and tiled rooves. Pure wood planks made any structures.

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard." Gimli muttered and Guinevere couldn't help but silently agree. The people stared at the newcomers.

They were greeted at the doors of the palace with a group of armed soldiers and a man who wore no helmet and with the same fish-scale type armour as the others. "We cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed. So ordered by Grima Wormtongue." The man announced however the distaste was evident in his voice. Gandalf indicated that they give up their weapons. All the warriors were reluctant but nevertheless complied. "Your staff?" The man asked. Gandalf looked at him innocently and began to lean more on it. "You wouldn't deprive an old man of his walking stick?" He looked them straight in the eye and Guinevere fought a smile as she came from behind him and moved beside him. He 'gratefully' to her proffered arm and the commander as it so appeared relented. Gandalf turned to her and Aragorn with a slight wink as they entered the great hall.

The door creaked close behind them and all five turned around with knowing and irritated glares. Guinevere's felt someone's gaze trained of them and looked behind the pillars to see a group of armed soldiers followed her with darkened eyes. She unconsciously inched closer to her companions and felt Aragorn's hand on her other arm. He shielded her from their lustful gaze and sent them a piercing look causing them to fall back into the shadows. A pale sallow skinned man with jet black hair knelt beside the king's throne. His menacing and calculating stare caused shivers to run involuntarily down her spine. It was as though evil coursed through his very veins. Her expression soured as his eyes assessed her figure no doubt with anything but good intentions.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late Théoden King." Gandalf's voice was loud as it rung in the hall.

The _Snake _as she'd mentally named him whispered something to his king at which the king looked up at them with pale and dead eyes. They were cold and glazed upon…an ice blue. His once fair skin was peppered with deep wrinkles and was an unhealthy snow white. He leant heavily on the arm of his throne. When he greeted them with taciturn tidings, Gandalf's jaw tightened. "A just question, my liege." The _Snake _spit and slithered in their direction.

"Late is the hour at which this conjurer chooses to appear. Láthspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest." His voice made her shudder with disgust. Legolas and Gimli were disturbed on the other side of Gandalf and she knew that Aragorn thought she hadn't noticed him edge in front of her. His eyes turned to her "And what have we here? A _woman_?" He emphasised the word with a covetous gaze roaming her body lingering on certain parts. "Keep your warped questions to yourself, Snake. They are an unwelcome addition to this court." She spat at him. "My my…aren't you a feisty one?" He inched closer but she stepped back Aragorn now completely in front of her and staring down at Wormtongue. Gandalf interrupted by addressing the king who seemed oblivious of what his 'most trusted advisor' was doing. Wormtongue then eyed his staff "I told you to take the wizard's staff." He called patronizingly to the commander. As his men moved forward to rid Gandalf of his staff, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Guinevere jumped into action. Aragorn kicked a man while Legolas who was now behind him, punched another. Gimli pummelled another and Guinevere delivered a swift back-swing kick to another's face rendering him unconscious. They all blindly swung knocking out the offending men.

Gandalf approached Théoden "Théoden, son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the Shadows!"

Wormtongue had crept behind her as she swung a fist in her opponent's jaw. Gimli tackled him down before he could even some much as touch her and pushed him flat with one large foot on his chest. "I would be still if I were you." He told him pointedly. He was now effectively pinned down on the ground with his legs and arms flailing beside him. He was writhing like a madman with Guinevere's foot eased on the hollow his throat every once in a while choking him and Gimli's foot on his chest.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf voice rose "I release you from his spell!" He chants. The king began to laugh brokenly but stopped in abrupt fear as Gandalf revealed his white robes from beneath the grey cloak he donned. His staff began to conjure energy and with the centrepiece pointed at him, Gandalf focused on the target of his attack: Saruman. A young woman ran out from behind a set of pillars into the king's direction but Aragorn held her back. Gandalf's closed eyes opened and a burst of white light shot up. Aragorn let the girl go and she knelt beside the king. His skin was much more human-like and his eyes once devoid of human emotion were filled with confusion and warmth. "I know your face." Guinevere saw him say as he looked onto the woman's face "Éowyn." "Maybe your strength will be better reminded if your hands held your sword Théoden King." The commander came up to him with his sheathed sword. His large hands moved to the sword like he had never held a sword in his life. He clutched it with a firm grip and pulled it out marvelling at the cool untarnished blade. His eyes began to show traces of recognition. He turned to his wizard friend to smiled in content. "Welcome home Théoden King." The king searched for answers in Gandalf's face as he said his next words "My dreams have been dark as of late." Théoden's eyes sharply turned to his now former advisor, Wormtongue. The Snake was still writhing on his back with Gimli growling at the man.

Grima was grasped by the arms by two of Théoden's commanders and dragged through the doors of the Golden Hall. They heaved a toss and Grima was took a tumble down the first flight of the stone stairs. "I have always served you my lord. Send me not from your side." He begged pathetically as he scrambled to his knees. "Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Théoden roared furiously. Grima grovelled but it was, thankfully, no use. Théoden advanced towards Grima with his sword held in a firm wristed hold.

Aragorn felt as though he should intervene but as he began to descend the platform, Guinevere put a hand in front of him to halt him. "Aragorn let it go." He stepped back reluctantly and watched Théoden as he raised his sword high above his head.

Guinevere couldn't help but cringe away from the gory sight of Grima's blood splattered over the stone. Grima's head was severed cleanly from the rest of his body. The occasional tremor shook the headless body making Guinevere's spine shiver in disgust.

The townspeople who'd gathered in front of the sight stood unmoving and frightened. However, it was eventually relief that spread over their countenance. Their king had returned and the death of his 'captor' was symbolised a new beginning. Théoden stared at them both in dismay and disorientation.

"Hail Théoden King!" One of the men proclaimed. The people knelt before their king, their heads bowed respectfully. Théoden looked around as though something was missing from the picture. He turned back to face the party that consisted of Gandalf and this company along with Éowyn and his commanders. "Where is my son? Where is Théodred?" Gandalf sighed in remorse. "We have much to discuss."

The guards and commanders were dismissed readily from the assembly and soon the only occupants of the Golden Hall was the king, his niece and Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Guinevere. The latter four stood quietly in front of the king as they watched him. Théoden leant heavily on the arm of his throne with Éowyn kneeling by his side. Gandalf was situated on the middle stone step facing Théoden; his appearance had aged some ten years as he watched the pitiful sight.

"My son…dead?" Théoden stared fast at his niece. His eyes began to well in emotion as he finally began to comprehend the news that he'd received. Tears spilled and he wept grasping Éowyn's limp hand in his own. Guinevere saw him as a man…and only a man. True, he was a king but his emotions overruled his rationality, hence a man.

"Has the funeral been readied for?" Gandalf's voice sounded commanding as it resonated through the hall.

Éowyn tore gaze from her uncle and looked up to Gandalf, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Untrusting of her voice, she nodded softly.

Few Rohirric soldiers were left after Éomer and his men's departure but of those that remained, eight were charged with bearing Théodred's cold corpse. Donned in their armour complete with black plumed helmets, they led the procession from Edoras' gates. Théoden walked behind them, his expression bland and his eyes stormy. His gaze met his niece. Éowyn stood hunched at Théodred's funeral spot donning a black hooded cloak hiding her long-flowing blonde locks from sight. Her shuddering breaths concealed sobs that threatened to spill from her lips.

Next to her was Guinevere. As per custom, the women were not to walk alongside the procession. Guinevere had not changed from the clothes but was lent a black coat from Éowyn. She lay a hand comfortingly on Éowyn's shoulder. Éowyn's chin trembled as she spied Théodred's body.

Behind Théoden was Gandalf still wearing his pure snow-white robes. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli walked with him and behind them, the men of Rohan who solemnly descended from his home to the grounds which bore the bodies of the fore bearers of Rohan's throne and soon its heir.

Sobs were wracked anew as Théodred was lowered from the soldier's shoulders in front of his tomb. It was an elevation in the ground with beautifully thriving grass. Tufts of moss grew on it with scatterings of white flowers.

Éowyn began to recite an old song in a language which Guinevere couldn't understand so she presumed it was Rohirric. Her singing only wavered once as Théodred's dead body was sealed in the tomb.

The men and women paid their respects to their late prince and sorrowfully began to trek back to their homes. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Guinevere were amongst the last to leave Théodred's tomb.

"He was a brave man your cousin." Aragorn told her softly.

Éowyn could not bear to tear her eyes away from the tomb where Théodred's body was now concealed from her. "Yes. He was." Her voice was but a whisper. She wiped them furiously, "Come. I am sure you are weary from your journey here."

All could tell that she was trying to push aside her mourning for Théodred but no one dared say it. She collected herself and invited them to return to the Golden Hall where they would be put up for the remainder of their stay. Gandalf lingered behind to give counsel to Théoden.

The large pillars of the Golden Hall, decorated with ornately carved patterns, were something that Guinevere had not found the time to appreciate. They were beautiful; not in the infinite way that she loved the elven city of Rivendell but rather in a more simplistic yet prideful manner. Éowyn led them past their previous entrance and through an open side corridor. It overlooked the vast scenery beyond. She deftly unlocked the door with a large key and led them in.

Guinevere was given a separate room to the men. A window of decent proportions was situated on the end of the room in an arched shape. It caused the room to be spectacularly illuminated. The small four-poster bed in the centre of the room was accompanied by a large wooden trunk. The hinged top was designed with a large white-painted horse and gold and forest green patterns weaving beneath it.

The lady stopped assessing her surroundings as she felt a presence in the doorway. She turned to find Éowyn standing there with a dress in hand. Her eyes held an almost distain which Guinevere couldn't comprehend.

"I have brought you a dress Lady Guinevere. Your clothes are…worn."

Guinevere snorted "I'd prefer to say filthy. Clean attire is much appreciated Lady Éowyn."

Éowyn placed the dress delicately across the mattress before shifting her vision up to Guinevere. "Is the sword yours milady?"

"I…yes. It is." Guinevere eyed her suspiciously, "Why should you ask?"

Éowyn sighed in frustration "Tis not something which is to be uttered."

Guinevere gave her a hard stare in response "I would rather you speak plainly Lady Éowyn. Have I done anything to offend you in any way?"

"I see you are blind to me. I envy you Lady Guinevere. That sword that rests at your hip has been wielded by your hand. It has fought beside Lord Aragorn and his companions. And I…I await the day when my sword shall see the same battle that yours has. The day when I will be able to fight for what I love just as you can."

"There is something you ought to consider Lady Éowyn before making such claims." Guinevere answered calmly as she began to remove her belt along with her sword and two daggers. "War is not a game Lady Éowyn. Do not be so ready and eager to take part in something which brings no good."

"It does. It rids the world of evil!" Éowyn cried passionately, determined to defend her desire.

"But at what cost milady? Why are you so eager to watch the men you love depart for war? Is your desire to see battle more important than seeing your uncle die? If he falls, what of your people? You have a duty to more than yourself Lady Éowyn. Your duty lies with your people."

"Do not tell of my duties Lady Guinevere. I have lived with them for all my life. I presume to know them better than a foreigner to my own lands."

"And _I _presume that you will not judge me due to my circumstances. I have not chosen to fight- that choice was never mine. If I could, I'd take back everything to rid myself the guilt of the dead and injured. I have not only be forced to kill orcs but I have had to see those of my own kin fight to their near death, Lady Éowyn. I do not see this as fortune but rather a curse."

The room went silent and no more than the distant bustling of the town could be heard. The women held their ground; Éowyn in the doorway with her hands clasped in front of the bodice of her slate-coloured gown necked with chainmail design and Guinevere at the bedside with the window lighting her features still dressed in her worn tunic and tights. She was no match in beauty for the Rohirric lady but her wisdom was certainly unrivalled.

Éowyn turned on her heel and paced away from her room. Guinevere's shoulders fell in exhaustion as she spared at glance at the dress. She bathed comfortably with plenty of time to spare until afternoon meal. Her dress was a strangely deep purple. The neckline resembled Éowyn's except that the material there was a combination of the purple and a deep marbled sapphire. She donned the floor-length gown and then with the help of some guards managed to navigate her way to the dining hall.

The walls were dark cherry stained wood with large banners hung from the rafters. Théoden was seated on his chair with Gandalf frowning heavily as he sat next to the king, his staff propped up against a pillar. There were large bowls of fire through the hall and torches were lit on the walls.

Legolas was standing in front of a pillar, to the left of Théoden, with his hands folded in front of him symmetrically. His expression was neutral but his lips twitched into a small smile when he greeted her. He looked as prim and proper as always- this made her lips upturn even more. Gimli had his back to her as he hungrily devoured the selection of meat and bread on his plate. He turned around and his eyes bulged slightly at her arrivals. He grinned at her before turning back to his food. Aragorn, who'd previously looked disinterested…or in contemplation, awarded her with a brilliant smile making her heart soar. He'd cleaned up and now was wearing a maroon tunic rolled up at the sleeves with a black jacket. His elbow was perched on the tabletop with his pipe in hand.

Éowyn had been speaking as Guinevere had entered the hall. She gave the lady a hard stare and then turned to the two children on the table on the other side of the hall. The young boy of about seven winters was hungrily ladling the stew into his mouth. His face was hidden by shoulder-length brown locks. The little girl whimpered softly. She recoiled from Éowyn who sighed and then turned her attentions to the boy, stroking his hair. Éowyn was torn between the two children.

Guinevere knelt quietly next to the little girl who looked at her suspicion. She put out a hand and the little girl's came out from underneath the green blanket draped around her shoulders and put it in hers. "Hi there. My name is Guinevere." "I'm Freda." The girl answered softly, "Have you seen my mama? I want my mama." Guinevere's heart broke as she heard Freda's helpless and timid plea and re-swathed her in the blanket before cuddling her up in her arms, sitting on the edge of the bench.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash." Gandalf told Théoden carefully as he eyed the king. Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a look and Gimli was still occupied in downing the food. "All the more potent for his driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children." He leant forward and put a hand on Théoden's chair. "You _must _fight."

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you. His men _will _return and fight for their king." Aragorn told him calmly.

Théoden stood from his chair and began to pace about the lower level. "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us." Gandalf stood to reiterate his opinion but Théoden refused to heed him "I know what it is that you want of me. But I will not bring further death to my people…I will not risk open war."

Guinevere's eyes averted immediately to Aragorn "Open war is upon. Whether you would risk it or not."

Théoden turned to glare at Aragorn. "When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan." Guinevere bit back a retort as Gandalf intervened. Gimli looked between Aragorn and Théoden as they verbally sparred. Aragorn's lips tilted into a mirthless smile.

"Then what is the king's decision?"

The early morning azure skies were lit with the presence of the sun which was still high in the sky. It was but a few hours after the eve of the previous day had passed. The people of Rohan had begun to assemble as the king's advisor in war, Háma stood before them.

"By order of the king, the city must empty." On his face was etched a grimace as he looked around at the innocent women and children who inched closer to his pedestal. "We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep."

The dark-haired woman stared at them with her rosy lips parted unconsciously. Her eyes were steeled as her sight was torn from the mountains to the scene unfolding below. Guinevere watched as the bewildered and frightened subjects of Théoden began to prepare themselves for the journey ahead.

"Helm's Deep! They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight!" Gimli grunted heatedly as he jogged behind Aragorn, Legolas and Gandalf who ventured toward the stables.

"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past." Aragorn reasoned.

Gandalf was next to speak as he paced furiously in the direction of Shadowfax's stall "There is no way out of that ravine. Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The People of Rohan will need you. Their defences _have _told hold."

Aragorn nodded quiet yet resolute "They will hold."

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other notes: (1) I just thought it really necessary to say: Yay! Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli are back! And with Gandalf! :) (2) This is not really related to this chapter but I thought it necessary to add that in a few chapters' time, the plot will begin to reveal itself. (3) Grima is dead now, thankfully, so this the first of many changes to Lord of the Rings. (4) Eowyn may have seemed a little more vindictive than what she appeared in the films. She will improve but I have focused heavily on the aspect of her character that desires to fight which will aid me in the future. (5) Sorry, if this chapter wasn't really edited properly and excuse grammatical and spelling errors. I will come back to it once I'm feeling better.


	10. Chapter 9: Tomorrow

**A/N: Are you excited for this new chapter? Well, I'm certainly excited in posting it. Posting a new chapter is probably the highlight of my week. I love getting reviews and I love to know that people who are following my story will be happy to see the next chapter. I know I'm absolutely adoring writing this and I've got _four _chapters already written up! **

_**Her: **_**Great to hear from you again; and I'm glad you liked my last chapter. We'll find out about Boromir in a little while. As for Legolas, I know! I always found him very sweet and loyal so it was perfect. I'm also happy that you agree with Eowyn's character. She's...quite intricate (as are most of the characters). Thank you for the wonderful review- it made my day. If I could, I'd give you a huge hug!**

**_Borys68_: I think I should point out that it did not feel 'right' to kill Grima. _I_ prefer him dead although his death isn't majorly impacting the story-line that I have set up. You are correct that there is no Palantir throwing; the reason for that is that I actually want a different setting for Gandalf and Saruman's last conversation. Pippin will still see the Palantir although in a different way. I am attempting to keep the same destination but travel it with a different path. Don't let that fool you though, I've changed much in latter chapters. ****Frankly, this story is more about exploring the characters of Lord of the Rings than the plot itself. That is just a medium that I will play around with. And for someone else killing Saruman, you are correct: someone else does.**

******To Whrr Trudy : Yes, I agree. Grima is ****intriguing but ugh... (shudder). I hope this chapter was what you were waiting for.**

**Anyways, nothing to explain in this chapter so just read ahead. Satiné :)**

******************_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 9: Tomorrow

"Guinevere."

Still she did not stir. Rather her eyes were fixed on Shadowfax as he galloped across the moss and large puddles, bearing Gandalf on his back. Her belongings were prepared for the long ride to Helm's Deep but she made no move to join them. Instead she stood unmoving watching as the horse and rider journeyed farther and farther away from her.

The wizard donned white robes yet all she could see was the grey robes which he once wore. His appearance had not persuaded her that Gandalf was the same. In fact, he was becoming less and less like the courageous but jovial Gandalf that she'd once known. He'd become more strategic and logical. He though less with his heart and more with his mind. Despite this, she could still feel the doting affection that he had for the hobbits. To her, he would forever remain in her memories as Gandalf the Grey.

As sleep would not come to her, she'd decided upon a small walk to clear her mind. On the large stone patio behind the entrance of Golden Hall, she'd found Gandalf for whom sleep was also lost. She'd attempted to dissuade him from leaving to find Éomer's men but he remained adamant. Guinevere did not have the heart to agree with him, still she made no attempt to stop him. Her childish attachment to Gandalf would surely get in way of the mission so she bid him with a small yet reserved smile and retreated to her chambers hoping to find more peace there.

Her reverie was interrupted by a hand resting on her shoulder. "Is all well?"

Unconsciously, she leant back and folded her arms over her chest. She set her shoulders still unsettled and wrapped her arms around herself. "Yes. It is nothing important."

She could almost feel his intuitive smile. "Gandalf's departure."

For the first time since acknowledging his presence, Guinevere turned around, her eyes still boring a hole into the ground. "It's just…we've only just got him back." He held his arms out to her and she readily threw herself into his embrace.

"I know…I know." He ran soothing strokes over her loose tresses. "Gandalf will return when the time is right. However, we must live in the present Guinevere. Who knows where tomorrow will take us." He gently pulled away with both hand still braced on her shoulders.

Guinevere sighed "Tomorrow…" She met his gaze and twisted her lips into a frown, "I'd prefer to think about today."

"So would I." Aragorn smiled. "Come. It will not be long until Théoden leaves Edoras and the journey will be long."

Guinevere parted with Aragorn at the door of her chambers. His smile spread a gentle warmth over her heart and as she shut the door, her back fell into its closed form. Closing her eyes Guinevere let the ghost of a smile escape her lips. Although she could not discern why, Guinevere knew that what she had with Aragorn was no longer a mutual friendship. For her part, it had blossomed into something which she could not word. It remained in her thoughts every silent moment, puzzling her to no end; yet it was an odd comfort that she felt. Whatever happened here on, she'd follow him to the ends of the Earth.

"You seem distracted." Guinevere turned absentmindedly to Legolas as he rode alongside her. Guinevere had let Belan free to roam the wild and return to them as he preferred. For this reason, Théoden had given her one of the shorter mares from Rohan's stables. The beautiful brown mare was no comparison to Belan but still she was a wonderful ride. During the first leg of the journey, she'd noticed some children struggling to keep with the pace of the more seasoned men of Rohan. She'd lent her horse to them and they took turns in sitting and riding. Aragorn rode upfront with Théoden himself whilst Gimli was riding Éowyn's which she led.

Guinevere attempted to brush off his concern but finally ended up replying to Legolas' indirect question. "Do you know when you feel something but you can't put it into words. You feel it, you know it's there but you can't tell _what _it is?" She rambled before trailing off "I'm make no sense whatsoever am I?" She sheepishly smiled at him.

"I think what you mean to say is that you've felt it before but somewhere you can't remember."

Guinevere abruptly halted and her head snapped in Legolas' direction who simply gave her a certain look "No…no. We are not having this conversation Legolas." She frowned shaking her head.

She tried to walk away but it seemed Legolas and Arod had already conspired against her. The Rohirric stallion blocked off her progress so she was forced to listen to the elf. Legolas felt it within her. She never had to say anything, he'd felt her troubled heart and moment he'd set eyes on her.

"You fear it. You fear love. You're afraid of being hurt again. You distance yourself so you will never have to feel the pain of a broken heart." Emotional tears began to spring in her eyes. Guinevere wiped them discreetly with the hem of her sleeves. "He is a good man Guinevere. You must trust him with your heart as you do with your life."

"He's bound for something greater than anything you or I can conjure. He will be the King of Men, Legolas and his queen should be just as worthy." She stalled hoping to avoid the inevitable. "All I will do is set myself up for heartbreak."

Legolas reached down and took a hand in his "Do not be afraid. Do not think of what is to happen for it is not in our hands. Do what you must in the time that is given to you; for if you do not…maybe that day will never come."

She choked back a sob and gave him a watery smile. Guinevere avoided Legolas' heavy gaze as she felt another's eyes upon her. The man in question had turned around and motioned for her to accompany him. Ignoring the pain of her throbbing feet, she sped up to meet him.

Aragorn motioned in front of him inconspicuously. "It's true you don't see many dwarf women. In fact, they are so alike in appearance, that they're often mistaken for dwarf men."

Éowyn twisted around in time to see Aragorn as he smiled and whispered the words "It's the beards." He motioned with his fingers and Éowyn turned around to face Gimli with a grin as Guinevere swatted Aragorn's arm. "This in turn has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!" Gimli began to flap both his hands exaggeratedly as he said this.

Guinevere could no longer suppress her amusement as she threw her head back in laughter. A hand came up to her lips as she gasped in fits of hysteria. Her laughter only increased as Gimli's horse decided to abandon the dwarf in a rather unwelcome manner. He had spotted a barrel of apples in the hands of some farmers a half mile in front of them and galloped off, effectively throwing Gimli off him. Éowyn ran after the stallion who was now irritating the two farmers by nuzzling the sealed barrel, increasing the weight of it. She apologised to the farmers and motioned behind her to Gimli who was being helped up by Guinevere.

"It was deliberate. That was deliberate!" Gimli called to all who had witnessed the spectacle. Guinevere chuckled as she brushed him off before she helped him stand. A nearby soldier heaved Gimli back onto the horse whilst Gimli was busy scolding the white stallion for its scheming.

The sun continued to remain high above their heads. Its glistening rays beat down hard upon the women and young children who were unaccustomed to being in the wild for so long. Théoden King had at last decided to set up an encampment to last them the night.

The Fellowship had been camped by near the bushes. Guinevere had begun to set the firewood that she'd collected as Éowyn approached her, Legolas and Aragorn. Upon noticing the shieldmaiden with a pot of stew in hand, the dwarf of the four immediately left with one sentence. "Tell the lass yer not hungry."

Éowyn readily offered Legolas and Aragorn the soup, prominently ignoring Guinevere as the latter shot the other two of her company a secretive smile. Supposing that Gimli's warning was only an exaggeration, both elf and man took the proffered wood bowls of stew. Legolas took a sip first and thankful for his ability to hide the wince, he forced himself to swallow the foul tasting mixture. He narrowed his eyes at Guinevere who stifled a laugh behind Éowyn. She stared innocently at Aragorn waiting for him to taste it. Steeling himself internally, he ladled a small amount of the murky stew and sipped it cautiously. He gave her a smile which contorted into an expertly hidden grimace. This was a sufficient reaction for Éowyn's satisfaction who turned away. Eyeing her retreating figure, Legolas and Aragorn immediately turned to the bush to spill the remaining contents.

Their faces were guilt stricken at Éowyn sudden return made Guinevere choke on her laughter. She spluttered still attempting to contain her giggles. Éowyn scowled at Guinevere's antics and turned to Aragorn. Legolas took his chance to escape and barely missed Aragorn's admonishing glare.

"My lord, you must allow me to ask one thing of you."

Aragorn straightened his posture in preparation for the impending question "Certainly."

"My uncle tells me that you once rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather but surely he must've been mistaken."

Aragorn did not deny Éowyn's words. "King Théoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time."

Guinevere raised her eyebrow and Éowyn's jaw fell in shock "No!" She gasped "Then you must be at least sixty." She insisted.

Again, he did not say anything. "Seventy? But you cannot be eighty!" She exclaimed.

"Eighty-seven." Aragorn looked to the ground as he spoke. Guinevere suppressed a smile at Éowyn's reaction which earned her a hard stare from the subject of her mirth.

"Then you must have seen so much of the world...might I ask, have you ever seen Gondor? The White City?" Éowyn asked him eagerly not paying heed to the other lady who was occupied with stifling a sarcastic comment that bubbled in her throat.

"Once, a long time ago. Why do you ask my lady?"

Éowyn twisted her lips pondering this herself "My uncle...he harbours a great deal against the White City. I've never truly known why. They say it is a large city with walls as high as mountains and it glistens with the sunlight that beams down upon it. They say it the largest city of men and the only which has ever been desired. I long to see its beauty but never have a returns beyond the borders of my country. So I can merely content myself with hearing accounts of the great city."

Before Éowyn had the chance to interrogate Aragorn further, Legolas thankfully returned.

"Théoden King wishes to speak with you milady." Éowyn nodded her assent and briefly smiled at Aragorn, sweeping past Guinevere. As the Rohirric woman's back was turned to them, Guinevere stood up with her fists on her hips and then sudden walked right between Legolas and Aragorn. She fell back next to Aragorn who smirked at her. Legolas was about to respond to Aragorn's unspoken question when he saw Guinevere who was strangely hysterical. She was always quite calm and collected, however now she almost resembled a…he was at a loss as how to describe her.

"The looks on your faces as you tasted the stew!" She shrieked between raucous howls of hilarity. Gimli reemerged from the bushes laughing at the other two's expense alongside Guinevere.

Guinevere's laughs soon reduced to timely chuckles. She'd collected herself enough to focus on making a dinner that did not resemble Éowyn's. She stirred some flavouring into the pot. The spitting and bubbling liquid smelt heavenly and she'd worked up Gimli's appetite for luncheon whilst the other two promptly ignored the conversation, in an attempt to regain their…dignity on the matter of food. Guinevere looked up to see Aragorn intently staring her down. She pushed back the chills that she felt run down her spine and gave him a teasing grin.

The four sat huddled over the small fire. Exhaustion had seeped into the entire company and now they were utterly spent. Guinevere had relatively calmed down since her bout of mirth and was now focused on not throttling Aragorn, who had insisted that he treat her swollen ankle. Apparently, walking was not one of her finer suits.

Gimli was once again the first to fall asleep with his dwarfish snores disrupting the silence of the night. Legolas had wandered off, no doubt trying to find some sort of an occupation. Guinevere sat alone with Aragorn by the fire.

"Are you well?"

He gave her a crooked smile still not meeting her eyes. Aragorn had noticed the irony in her asking the same question which he had at the beginning of their journey to Edoras. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem burdened, almost worn. What is it Aragorn? What's wrong?"

"If I am to be a pillar of strength for men, Guinevere, who will be left to comfort me, to be my strength? I walk this path blindly. And alone."

"Never alone." Guinevere shook her head furiously, "Never alone."

He ran a weary hand over his face. "_He _has returned, Guinevere and his hold over these lands has grown more than imaginable. Will Sauron ever fall? Will this reign of darkness ever end?"

Guinevere looked into his eyes and all she saw was vulnerability. Lost was the feared ranger, the heir to the Gondorian throne- before her was only a small child; lost and frightened in a world much larger than himself.

"Frodo bears the burden of the world on his shoulders and as part of his quest, so do we. There is no choice for us between success or failure- there never was. All we can do is fend off evil for as long as we can. If Middle-Earth is meant to fall…it will. And there is nothing you or I can do about it. You carry a burden no lesser than Frodo, Aragorn. He carries the burden of Sauron's life and you carry the burden of future of men. You need not be lost for there is only one path you must take: the right one. In your heart, you know that there is still a sliver of hope that remains. Still a chance to see Sauron fall. Do not be disheartened as of yet, Aragorn. This war has yet to begin."

She watched enraptured. His eyes regained their sparkle as they stared at her with renewed hope and strength. Guinevere said no more on the matter, knowing that there was nothing to be said.

"You carry a great burden on these shoulders Aragorn. Let them rest." She took him by the hand and forcibly made him lay down. "You are weary." She brushed her warm hands over his own causing him to drift away from her into the sleepy delirium. "Sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day." As her mother did when she was younger, Guinevere stroked his hair until his breathing evened. She draped their lone blanket over him. Hesitating slightly, she risked a tender kiss to his temple and left him be.

She stretched her stiff legs and lay on her own sleeping mat which was located on the other side of the now doused fire. Guinevere twisted and turned in unease, itching to fall asleep. Finally, she sat up and drew her knees up to her chest. She curled into a ball and lifted her gaze to meet the starry skies above. They tinkled like tiny crystals against the blackened sky. She looked down at the still smouldering fire and then beyond to where a pair of intent eyes stared at her with a desolate smile.

Legolas stood alone at the very edge of their campsite. He'd left Guinevere and Aragorn to converse as he sought out some wood. Unable to find anything to occupy his time, the Mirkwood elf had decided on sharpening his arrows. He sat in silence with his blade running practised across the arrowhead. The winds howled, restless and terrified. They spoke of torture, of impending evil. Legolas did not know what to make of it. The night was quiet but eerily so. There was something wrong...a darkness approached them- an evil which they could not shake. He tore his eyes from the arrowhead to the lady who'd laid the ranger to sleep. In his hands, he clutched at the arrow firmly. His eyes moved with her every twitch. It was no surprise that her eyes betrayed her confusion and outright panic. Still he said nothing. He merely watched as the omnious winds continued to swirl in the air. Something would transpire in following days and it was something that would change the fate of this war.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

**A/N: Did you like it? (Fingers crossed and eyes shut tightly). I wanted to pick the essence of the characters. Coming up: more drama. I promise the next chapter will be much longer, and perhaps more interesting. ;) Excuse any spelling and grammar errors, I'll find them eventually...and please leave reviews (they are cherished here!). And since you all are so wonderful, here is a snippet of what is to come. **

Next time on 'And So The Journey Begins':

Aragorn scrutinized Legolas as the elf sent a swift arrow which lodged into the neck of a warg-rider. They rode bareback on the creatures of Saruman. Towering and fierce, the wargs bounded heavily disrupting the peace as they left trampled grass and flowers in their wake. Two additional arrows sailed through the air and effectively hit his aim. This broke Aragorn out of his fear-induced stupor. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he began to make his way down the hill where the women and children remained.

"Where are you going? Wait for me." Guinevere told him sharply as he took the reins from Eowyn who eyed her uncle warily.

"Guinevere if you leave, there is no one left to protect the women and children. You and Eowyn must leave for Helm's Deep immediately. Many others will have taken refuge there."

"I'm not leaving you Aragorn. You need me."

Aragorn stared her down furiously "Yes I do. But not there. I cannot fight knowing that you are not fully healed. You must rest."

"I know where this is going." She accused him lightly.

He took her hand "Please. For Me."

She relented unwillingly as he hoisted himself into the saddle in one fluid motion. He made to leave but she halted him one last time.

"Come back to me…please?"


	11. Chapter 10: Tears for the Fallen

**A/N: Hi everyone. So I've had a terrible week and the only good thing about it is that I can update 'And So The Journey Begins'. I'm updating a day earlier than planned, mainly because I just need to wind down and writing helps that. WARNING: this chapter does contain tragedy, heartbreak and a lot of sad Legolas. I'm ecstatic to find that I have _fifty _followers so I hope that this chapter is up to par. Reviews are always welcome- the good, the bad and the ugly; except lighten up the wording a bit if you will- otherwise I can guarantee that I'll get all defensive. :) Now my chapter's tribute to my reviewers:**

**_Her: _****I know! I know! On the bright side this chapter is _much _longer and _much _more cliffhanger-y. I apologise for the short chapter last week but it was necessary. I love finding your review after posting because it makes me so happy to know that someone's enjoyed this story enough to leave such a nice review. Agreed; Legolas is absolutely adorable. I love writing all the characters but I am biased to enjoy writing Aragorn, Legolas (he's the psychologist side of me) and Gimli. I also wanted to portray each character's journey and how they change through that one-year and a bit period. Thank you for the lovely compliments. Made my day as always!**

**_FreeSpiritSeeker_****: I'm glad you enjoyed last chapter and hopefully this will get you even more excited for the next chapter! Thank you for the wonderful review.**

**_TommyGinger: _****I know we already had this conversation but a big thank you to you. I'm glad that you value my writing enough to try and make me a better writer. I did change that little bit in the story- no major plot changes though.**

**_Borys68_****: Sorry, sorry. I _am _trying to change up the dialogue. This chapter barely has any...can't say the same for the next ones though. I have my own reasons for using film dialogue but that's just me...**

**Can't wait to hear from you guys. Enjoy!**

**_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 10: Tears for the Fallen

The company had risen with the sun and a mere hours after their waking, Théoden decided to leave their campsite- and rightfully so. Had word reached Isengard of their retreat to Helm's Deep, Guinevere had no doubt that Saruman would send his…creatures to delay them.

Guinevere had inched away from Aragorn and Éowyn who were immersed in conversation. Éowyn was a curious character and Guinevere often regretted the growing hostility that both harboured against one another. Her eyes flicked to Aragorn. He held, in his hands, the reins to the large chestnut steed who dutifully trotted alongside him. Guinevere made sure she was out of his hearing range as she sighed. She'd stalled once again in telling him. There was something about the way Legolas had spoken with her yesterday that set her at unease. His expression flickered with the slightest pity which Guinevere would not seem to construe. His words remained a constant shadow, tugging at her heart every time she saw Aragorn.

As Guinevere was walking away from their company, she vaguely heard the shieldmaiden inquire after the silver, untarnished necklace that hung around Aragorn's neck. The Evenstar. Aragorn remained silent as though reliving something from his past. His cold and dismissing reply caught Éowyn off guard. If Guinevere had not been watching her so intently, she would've missed pitying relief that swept across Éowyn's features since it fell as quickly as it rose.

They continued to walk on in silence as Guinevere felt a slight shiver down her spine. As though on instinct, her gaze was drawn to two soldiers who rode past them in haste to Théoden who had now moved so he was leading the people. They spoke in hushed voices lest they be heard and with their backs to her, Guinevere couldn't figure out what they said. When she returned her gaze to the sight before her, she realised that Aragorn too had noticed this.

Legolas regarded the two men as they disappeared up the steep hill. There was something remiss; something foul in the air. Being of the elf race, Legolas had many traits that were absent in normal men and other races of Middle Earth. This was namely one. He could sense things in the air, in the wind. His contemplation was broken as Arod began to shift constantly as though unsettled.

The elf dismounted his horse and let one of the men take it. He ignored the stocky dwarf as Gimli approached his saddled horse. Legolas took large strides, not quite running, in the riders' direction. He felt the prying eyes of the others behind him who began to cower in immediate fear. He looked over the landscape trying to find the cause of his unrest.

Aragorn scrutinized Legolas as the elf sent a swift arrow which lodged into the neck of a warg-rider. They rode bareback on the creatures of Saruman. Towering and fierce, the wargs bounded heavily disrupting the peace as they left trampled grass and flowers in their wake. Two additional arrows sailed through the air and effectively hit Legolas' intended target. This broke Aragorn out of his shock-induced stupor. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he began to make his way down the hill where the women and children remained.

Théoden had evident noted the commotion as his mare trotted toward Aragorn's descending figure. "Warg scouts!" Aragorn's voice cut through the beast's growls over the hill. The king nodded and began to venture over those very hills as Éowyn trailed after him. Guinevere, who'd taken hold of Hasufel's reins after Éowyn left, handed them back to their previous rider. The shieldmaiden was speaking her uncle and their conversation grew to an exchange of heated words. Aragorn made to leave and Guinevere frowned.

"Where are you going? Wait for me." Guinevere told him sharply.

"Guinevere if you leave, there is no one left to protect the women and children. You and Éowyn must leave for Helm's Deep immediately. Many others will have taken refuge there."

"I'm not leaving you Aragorn. You need me."

Aragorn stared her down furiously "Yes I do. But not there. I cannot fight knowing that you are not fully healed. You must rest."

"I know where this is going." She accused him lightly.

He took her hand "Please. For Me."

She relented unwillingly as he hoisted himself into the saddle in one fluid motion. He made to leave but she halted him one last time.

"Come back to me…please?"

He nodded tenderly stroking her hand which now lay on top of his rein-bearing ones. The _"I will try to" _was left unsaid between the two. Hasufel reared abruptly and galloped up the steep sloping hill. As he waited for the other warriors to pass, Aragorn turned back to her and gave her a hard stare like he was trying to memorize every inch of her face before he left. She stared back at him with equal force, willingly remaining captive to his gaze. Guinevere felt her heart stumble in its beats at the exchange. She followed him until he could see him no more.

As Théoden joined Aragorn, Éowyn stood, her jaw set firmly. Guinevere could tell that Éowyn had been told the same as she. Guinevere advanced toward her and Éowyn immediately drew up her walls, in case of having to rebuke. Guinevere pushed this aside and focused on the matter at hand.

"I know, you don't like me but our differences aside, I do not doubt you are a strong warrior and worthy of your title." The conversation was cold but more than the rivalry between the two women was the fate of Edoras' people.

Éowyn nodded stiffly "I will lead them."

"And I will follow."

Guinevere felt relief and tenderness sweep over her as she returned Eothan and Freda to their mother who was huddled against a wall within Helm's Deep. She was about to turn away from the touching scene when the lady addressed her. "Milady, are you the one to take care of my children?" She raised her hands wearily and Guinevere clasped them in her own. "Both Lady Éowyn and I took care of your children since they arrived in Edoras. They are a delight." The woman thanked her profusely.

As Guinevere turned to leave the woman, she was met by a certain Rohirric woman. "Éowyn." She nodded softly acknowledging the woman before her. Éowyn took a deep breath as if to reconsider her words

"I…I realise that perhaps I may have been too harsh in my judgement of you." Guinevere returned the smile that Éowyn hesitantly gave her. It was no apology but they were nearing it.

"Don't think anything of it. Perhaps one day, we will be able to push aside our differences. Our friendship would be a strong one."

She nodded. "I thank you Guinevere."

Guinevere squeezed her hand and with that she left Éowyn to speak with Eothan and Freda's mother.

Many children were present in the fortress. Most were in tears at the big world around them as men towered over them. They slipped into the shadows of the stone structures weeping in earnest. One such child was curled away in an elevated corner easily forgotten and tears leaked in her eyes.

"What's wrong darling?"

"I'm hungry." She whimpered.

Guinevere took her into his arms and handed her the fresh red apple that she was about to consume. The little girl only spared a momentary glance at her to ensure that she was allowed to eat it. She devoured it with great desire, almost crying in relief as the sweet juice of the fruit was savoured on her tongue. Guinevere stroked her hair comfortingly until as elderly lady came up to relieve her.

Guinevere left the little child in her care with a blanket wrapped around them both. Despite her own tiredness, she ventured inside and assisted the healers in tending to the ill.

Sometime later when her help was at last not required, she wandered aimlessly through the stone walkways carefully treading on her toes. She spoke with families giving them comfort and aided the elderly to be suitably arranged. The wails of babes, the hushed murmurs of women and boisterous calls of soldier high above prevailed over the eerie silence that would otherwise fill the air.

Longing for a moment of peace, she stole away to the upper balcony of the fortress. Here she relished the cold air with closed eyes. In the distance she spotted the banner of Rohan fluttering proudly in the sky. She took the stairs two at a time to get a better view from a watchtower. She tried to find Aragorn but with no such luck.

Legolas' head snapped to her feeling the penetrating gaze above him and she waved obliviously. Guinevere raced down the shelf to the lone entrance of the fortress- two great wooden doors. As the soldiers rode in, she tried to look behind them for her ranger. It seemed that Éowyn was engrossed in searching for the same person.

However she was torn from her search as her uncle arrived with an injured man riding limply in front of him. Théoden dismounted anxiously and assisted the wounded soldier into the capable hands of the healers that were poised at the stairs waiting to be of service. Éowyn began to converse with him but Guinevere had little concern for it. She embraced the elf and dwarf warmly. "Legolas! Gimli! You didn't get hurt did you?" She inspected Gimli and when she was satisfied, she moved to do the same to Legolas. Her unnecessary fretting halted as she saw the last of the Rohirrim enter Helm's Deep. Behind them the door shut.

"Where is Aragorn?" Gimli remained silent and Legolas bowed his head.

"Legolas, where is Aragorn?" Legolas stared at the ground unwillingly to meet her eye as she frantically shook his shoulders as panic welled within her heart.

"Gimli, where is he?"

Gimli rooted himself into the ground trying to hold back tears. "H-He…he fell."

Those two words almost killed her right there. "No." She breathed. "No no no! He can't be dead…he can't be." Her grip on Legolas' shoulders tightened as reality came crashing down on her. Guinevere began to back away from the elf and dwarf.

Her head snapped in Éowyn's direction as the pale-faced shieldmaiden watched her sorrowfully. "I'm sorry." Her words were like a dagger that had been embedded in her chest. Perhaps even such a fatal wound would have been preferred to living with such news. Guinevere could tell that Éowyn had heard the very same news of Aragorn's death from her uncle.

Her brown eyes glazed over and she ran upstairs to conceal her grief. Now on the upper level, she leant against a single pillar. Her knuckles went white as she clawed at the stone. Tears streaked her rosy cheeks. "Aragorn…" She whispered over and over again as she wept openly.

_Why? Why did I have to go and fall in love with him? _He…He was dead. No that couldn't be. He couldn't die that like that! He died alone. He shouldn't have died; Legolas was with him, why didn't the elf protect him? Where was Gimli as Aragorn fell?

Aragorn couldn't die like this…Why him? Why now? What was to become of those for whom he remained a flicker of light in a world of darkness? What was to become of Legolas, Gimli, the hobbits, Gandalf, Éowyn…_her_? They would be lost.

Her head ached as frantic thoughts swirled in her mind. Guinevere clenched the stone as she physically felt her heart breaking. It felt numbed until she felt a small crack, followed by another and another. Her breathing was irregular, stopping completely for short spans of time as she attempted to drag air into her lungs.

Concealed from his sight, she could see Legolas. The Mirkwood prince sat upon the bed in the chambers that had been loaned for the Fellowship's use. His ice blue eyes robs glassy although there was no evidence of tears. He leant forward so his elbows were braced on his knees. His face was paler than she'd ever seen it. And at that moment she knew: nothing would be the same for them. This was the one death that no one would have ever seen coming. He was meant to be infallible, a pillar of strength. In times of disaster, Aragorn had held them together. He was their leader. He was the best of men..._was. _The word struck her with the blow of a thousand arrows as she shuddered with renewed sobs. She turned away from the sight, her head falling back as it collided with the stone. Her expression was riddled with frustration, tears, anger and grief. She ran another flight to the curved walkway at the front of the fortress. Her hands weakly braced on the stone as she leaned forward. She wanted to jump off the stone at that very moment but she tried to hold herself together.

Legolas attempted to take shaky breaths as he removed his silver arm braces. Aragorn's death had affected him deeply, perhaps more than any other he'd faced. When Gandalf 'died', he'd become withdrawn and bewildered. He couldn't fathom it. Having lived in an isolated world where death was never witnessed so frequently, he couldn't seem to comprehend it. One moment he was there and the other, he was gone forever. When Guinevere and Boromir had been hurt, he'd blamed himself for the occurrence but nevertheless remained rational. However, each time, it was a single stronghold who brought him back to the world of living, to the present- Aragorn. He was more than a brother-in-arms; he was friend. Legolas had seen the death of many a friend, people that he cherished. How many more could he survive? And for the first time, Legolas wished that he was no elf. They lived only to see their friends fall and once again remain alone in the world.

He felt Gimli's presence in the doorway but he did not acknowledge it. The dwarf stood in front of him at his full height and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Ye need te hold on laddie. He'll come." This sparked a response out of the mourning elf as he looked up. Legolas appeared much younger than Gimli could recall; and his appearance was frightful. He wanted to force the elf to rest but deemed it wise not to do so- for if he did, perhaps Legolas would wake up with dark circles under his eyes. His skin was a pale, lacklustre white and his eyes so broken that a single glance at them would reduce Gimli to tears. "He is lost Master Dwarf. Aragorn fell." Gimli nodded softly, tears seeped into his beard "Aye lad. I know, but he's not going without a fight Legolas. He'll be back so don't yer go about w'th yer tears now." Legolas nodded, "We left him Gimli. He died alone." Gimli gripped his shoulder firmly. "He will return Legolas. But more than Aragorn, I fear for Guinevere. Where is the lass?" Legolas perked up immediately. "I do not know. I did not see her after she left. I have looked everywhere for her." Both exchanged a knowing glance and it was one of understanding, grief and pain.

"Guinevere." Legolas called as both he and Gimli shadowed her steps, waiting at the stop of the stairs. The cool wind swelled around her, her skirts fluttering minutely. Her hair was limply fastened out of her face and long black strands danced around her neck. She gradually turned to him and what he saw would haunt him for the rest of his days. Cold, broken…dead. She looked nothing more than a living corpse. Her once rosy cheeks were now pale and hollowed. Her features exuded numbed pain; but it was her eyes that scared him the most. They were dulled. The spark of life had died.

"H-He left me alone." She sounded a like a little child.

Suddenly rage bubbled within her. "Why!?" She screamed with a force that even shook herself. "Why him!? Please! Don't take him away from him!"

Her back hit the wall and she slid down it. Her hands were braced at her heart. Legolas approached her as though approaching a doe. He bundled her into his arms and held her as she sat there numbly. Sobs wracked her lithe figure anew. Legolas sighed saddened as he gently gathered in his arms and lifted her up. They passed Théoden with his commander and advisor. They stared back at the three remaining of the Fellowship pitifully. Legolas nodded, acknowledging their sorrowful tidings and walked past. He lay her on the bed and the moment her head touched the pillow, she was fast asleep. She resembled a small child swathed in warm blankets.

Gimli walked into the room, his spirits dampened, with a tray in hand. Supper had commenced but an hour ago but none of the Fellowship had attended the meal. Gimli had eaten half-heartedly and Legolas had not eaten entirely. The dwarf had taken to bringing the delicious stew along with some warmed bread to the chambers which Guinevere had not left since she'd arrived.

The lass sat by the window with her head braced against the cold stone. Her once warm and sparkling eyes looked to resemble those of the dead. She only lived because she could not die. She breathed because she could not stop. She'd grown cold and withdrawn.

No greater pain could be conjure that what she felt at that moment. Guinevere felt lifeless, her fingertips were icy cold and she could feel nothing but the whispers of the wind. Memories of him tormented her without mercy. She tried to forget but she could think of nothing but him. His gentle voice haunted her and she felt as though he still remained with her in the land of living.

"You need to eat something lass."

Guinevere looked out of the window, unable to reply.

"Come on lass."

"It hurts Gimli." The lost look on her face broke Gimli's heart "It hurts so much."

"I know lass. I know." Gimli sat beside her placing the tray beside him.

"I'm not vindictive by nature Gimli. I don't hate people easily but I _hate him_. Saruman took him away from me. I hate him. I want to see him suffer Gimli. Am I a bad person for thinking so?"

"No Guinevere. You are not." Legolas stood in the doorway.

"Eat lass. You need to keep up your strength." Gimli tried to pull away from the turn that the conversation had begun to take.

He tore off a piece of bread offering it to Guinevere but she just turned her head away and resuming looking out of the window aimlessly.

"Don't do this to yourself Guinevere. The grief of it will kill you."

Legolas knew all too well about being susceptible to succumbing to grief. Elves were said to be immortal, untouchable. Immortal they may be but certainly not untouchable. An elf can die of a wound and he can also die of a broken heart. Elves loved with all their being and when the love of their life is torn from them, they cannot withstand the grief.

Guinevere was no elleth but her broken spirit and shattered heart would not see this. That passion, that flame would die...had died. It would be a slow, painful death. Excruciating pain day and night with no hint of relenting. Every day the death of Aragorn would be farther from her but still she would cling on to the threads of his memories. Guinevere had already felt heart-break. He could sense the turmoil that had settled in her heart. She knew what was to come yet she did nothing to wave it away. She couldn't.

Piece by piece it would shatter her, break her. It would become a cage. One that would hold her captive until the end of her days, until death finally claimed her. She would wander the world with unfeeling footsteps and remain forever blinded from the world beyond the cage that has encased her. It would become a prison, one that she can never escape. A prison of darkness with all hope and light lost. She would be tormented; taunted and scarred with his memories. They would overwhelm her and she would collapse unceremoniously and uncaring to the ground. She would wither away like a blooming flower weathering the cold of winter.

Then a day would come that her tears will have dried, that her heart will have become numbed to the everlasting pain of loss and all that ever made her herself would be lost in an abyss of darkness. With no will to live, she would be brought to her knees. She would fall, leaving behind those who still held memories of her to both mourn and rejoice. Her loss would create another hole in their hearts but the one comfort that they could muster would be rejoicing for the end of her suffering. And this day, she would never get up. She would draw her last breaths this day and give in to her sorrow.

"Then so it shall be Legolas." The words were frigid and heartless. Already her grief was beginning to lock her away.

With a final hope he replied "He'd be hurt to see you like this."

At this she looked up, raw emotion pent up in her doe-like eyes "I should've been with him Legolas."

"There was nothing you could have done to save him."

"I never got to tell him." The words were but a whisper, "You were right Legolas. I could have told him when I had the chance."

The elf said nothing, only sparing a glance at the dwarf who averted his eyes.

"I _am _sorry Legolas, Gimli. I've been so wrapped up in my own grief that I have forgotten that he was also cherished by you both." She sniffled, wiping away stray tears.

"Ye have the right to mourn Aragorn just like us lass. He'll be back though." Gimli told her with certainty.

"How can you be so sure Master Dwarf?"

"Because it would be a sad day when Aragorn decides to forgo us lass. With even the smallest ounce of strength in him, that lad will not give up."

Legolas shook his head believing that Gimli's words were said in denial. "I wish that we had time to mourn Aragorn's loss but our time to share his fate is near. This will perhaps be our last battle. I had always thought until today that we would draw weapons with Aragorn by our side; but that shall not come to pass. However, this night we will still draw _our _weapons. We will fight this night. We will fight with the remembrance that Aragorn and so many others have suffered till this day by the hands of these vile creatures. This night, we sharpen our blades, we band together and we fight for the last stand of Rohan." Legolas gripped her shoulder firmly.

Gimli patted her other shoulder "Ye'll de fine lass. Anyways, ye'll have yer friends with ye." They linked arms as they silently mourned and gained strength.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

**A/N: Hi guys! [frantically waving]. Anyways, I don't actually know when this tradition of putting an author's note at both the start _and _finish of the chapter came about...probably because I couldn't make a decision. I'm quirky like that. I hope you liked this chapter; yes, I know 'killing' off Aragorn was pretty cliche but it's great for Fellowship interaction, so it's there. I realise how evil I've been concluding this chapter here but here's the deal: if enough people want the next chapter, I'll post it early. It's already written up and edited so it's all set to go! Otherwise, I'll just post next Friday as per usual. Thanks to all the constructive criticism that has come in and a big thanks to everyone who has been encouraging me to continue this story. The best part about placing stories like this for the world to see, is when you know that someone out there has enjoyed reading it as much as you enjoyed writing it. And a lovely hug to all my followers and guest readers for making my day. Satiné xx**

**PS (VERY IMPORTANT Note): If you want an early update, then just give me a quick review! :)**


	12. Chapter 11: Return of the Ranger

**A/N: Bonjour! Hi everyone! How are you? Hoping you're as wonderful as I am. I think my week's finally taken a turn for the AMAZING and the response for this story has been absolutely spectacular! I've got 7 reviews and 1 PM all requesting to see this chapter up; and so it shall be. I hope you guys haven't waited too long for this chapter and I really would love to hear from you all. Mainly because I'm terrified about this chapter. We have some _major _developments- and I mean major...so...Anyways, moving on. For anyone who has trouble reading italics in my story, I've left a short guide at the end of this post which will hopefully make it easier for you to follow the story. Once again, a massive thank you all the reviewers- you have been a key influence on helping me continue writing. **

**Now, I'll stop sounding so sappy and let you read on. Enjoy! **

**_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 11: Return of the Ranger

_The water that soaked his tunic was ice cold and the sun bleared harshly into his eyes. Aragorn let his body be carried by the waves of water. His wounds burned as the water rushed over him and pain grew to be so excruciating that he was numbed to it. He could hear her whispers. An angel. A saving grace.__"Come back to me please?" The sweet voice made emotion swell in his barely beating heart and he felt tender warmth wash over him._

_He regretted the moment his body was washed onto dampened soil and sand. The pain returned and his fantasy was lost. He stared into the sky, squinting against the brightness. His head inched sideways yet his strength still failed him. Aragorn vaguely felt a gently muzzle nudged his face but he could not discern his dream from reality._

_"Whatever happens, whatever name you go by- Strider, Aragorn…Elessar. You'll always have a friend in me."_

"_You will live to see your kingdom flourish under your rule. You will live to see peace and harmony in the lands of Middle Earth once more."_

"_Never alone."_

_These choice words of hers remained forever etched in his memories. They rung in his ears like a sweet melody. Her pure smile that spoke of strength of courage. Still a dimmed flame remained- that of hope._

_Aragorn had seen the darkness that would spread over this world. Those that resisted the bonds of evil would be broken until they were forced to yield. Tortured into submission. The screams of little children and mourning of mothers would prove to hurt more than these wounds he bore. Each tear would bear a sorrow and hurt ten times that which he felt presently._

_These thoughts gave Aragorn strength. Strength to continue. Strength to endure. This burden he bore was great but for the sake of a young hobbit who journeyed toward Mordor, he would weather it._

_He felt the soft nudges of a horse. He forced himself to the land of living and turned onto his shoulder. He stifled a groan and gripped the chestnut horse's reins firmly in his blood-encrusted hands. As long as he breathed, Aragorn would not let himself fail. He could not fail Frodo, he could not fail Guinevere, Legolas, Gimli; he could not fail Middle Earth. So long as he drew breath, he would keep the flame of hope burning._

The unending skies had begun to lose its azure tone as the sun began to gradually set. Dry lumps of moss were scattered over the landscape as the wind whistled eerily. The tranquillity was lost as a single figure, limply hunching over a horse made his way through the plains. Brego trotted slowly so as not to drop his wounded master.

The rider perked up and his back straightened as he watched from the safety of two large stone peaks. An army of 10,000 strong Uruk-hai marched with surety over the plains. They bore large banners which fluttered in the wind, the material dancing merrily unlike its bearer. On these black banners was an ominous, crudely painted white hand.

He edgily continued to move through the lower plateaus as Brego constantly jostled him to ensure that he'd not fallen unconscious.

Aragorn smiled in pride and relief as he looked at the sight before him. Between two looming mountains lay a small stone structure. Small rivulets of water were tangled artfully in front of the fortress. Sandy grasslands lay between the mouth of the mountains from where a large curved pathway led into Helm's Deep. The great fortress of Rohan.

He murmured softly to Brego in elvish commending the horse for his bravery as he patted his companion's neck lovingly. Brego neighed quietly and more hurriedly made his way to the gates.

He spotted the guard in the watchtower who stared in disbelief at his arrival. Metal cogs clamoured as the doors opened. Brego slowed as if on instinct and then abruptly came to a halt. Leaning heavily on the stallion, a beaten and battered Aragorn got off his mount and handed the reins to a nearby soldiers who'd come forward.

People began to crowd around them as they watched on. There were faces of relief, exhaustion, disbelief... "Where is he?" A rough and familiar voice grumbled heavily. The tiny yet burly dwarf pushed through the men and women assembled. "I'm going to kill him!" He threatened without malice.

Parting two soldiers, Gimli gawped as he stood incredulously before the heir of Gondor. "You are the luckiest, the canniest and the most reckless man I ever knew!" He hugged Aragorn tightly. His large beard gave way to a broad grin appeared. "Bless ye laddie!" Although Gimli would never admit it, he very nearly cried as he said those words.

Aragorn gave him a tired yet knowing smile. He braced his hands on the dwarf's shoulders and pulled him back. "Gimli where is the king?" His voice was deliberate as he said this. Gimli gestured to the hall behind him. He patted Gimli on the shoulder and made his way to the aforementioned hall as the crowd began to disperse. Aragorn took long fast strides as he pushed back the aching pain of his wounds and focused his efforts on moving forward. He could feel eyes on him as they strained to get a glimpse of him.

Guinevere watched Legolas' retreating figure as the rest of the company assembled in the hall glared at the same target. They had been in very deep conversations about war strategies when the elf's back suddenly straightened. He merely up and left leaving all the remaining men and herself in shock. She nodded respectfully to Théoden who sat at the head of the table affronted. Picking up her skirts, she paced hurriedly in the elf's footsteps.

Aragorn was preoccupied with thoughts that swirled in his mind; so preoccupied that he almost ran into a familiar face as he reached the doors of the main structure. The elf stared at him. His expression could've been mistaken as vacant as elves usually were but his ice blue eyes sparkled with hidden anticipation. Legolas stood before him not uttering anything for a short while. His lips were upturned into the hint of a smile. His countenance did not give way to the relief and joy that he felt but this Aragorn could already tell. "You were missed." Legolas' eyes glinted as he said this. He moved back slightly and took into account his friend's appearance. "You look terrible." He squinted his eyes as he scolded him. Aragorn raised an eyebrow at the strangeness of the comment before realising its significance. He gave Legolas a crooked grin.

"Legolas!" The soft feminine voice made him recall how he had longed to see her. "Legolas! Don't you walk out on me! You can't just…never mind! Legolas! What are you…?"

Guinevere paced in the direction that Legolas had retreated to from the meeting. Her ankle-length dress, loaned from Éowyn, swirled around her feet. "My lady?" She swung around not pausing her strides. "Yes?" "Théoden King has arranged for tailored armour. It will be prepared shortly." She nodded dismissively thanking him and carried on, following the stone walkway. "Legolas! What are you…?" Words failed her. Guinevere was certainly not prepared for the sight before her. Her heart felt heavy as it sunk and her head began to ache as soon as her shock had passed. She furrowed her brow trying to hold back the flow of tears that threatened to fall.

Aragorn stepped forward to greet her but she consequently retreated from him. She could do nothing but stare at him. She could not believe that he was alive. No, it had to be a dream. It must be. She turned away from him, stifling tears as she scurried timidly up to her chambers. Aragorn stood in her wake bewildered. Legolas came up behind him "She has seen a great deal of sorrow since she arrived in Middle Earth, Aragorn. Your death nearly killed her, my friend."

The man said nothing, opting to leave in the direction of his previous destination.

"Where are you going?" Legolas followed him.

"To Théoden. There is some news I must tell him. It cannot wait."

It seemed Legolas was beginning to become more and more human as his hand lurched out to grab him, hindering his progress. "She needs _you_ Aragorn."

"This cannot wait." Aragorn insisted.

"Neither can she! She's been broken, devastated…you need to go to her."

"But…."

Legolas shook his head "Whatever you have to say can wait." He pushed Aragorn in the other direction to their chambers where Guinevere was openly sobbing.

Aragorn entered the room with gentle footfalls but it seemed as though Guinevere had noticed that she had company. However she'd mistaken her companion to be Legolas. "Legolas. Leave me be. I beg you. I am becoming delusional." She wept and still Aragorn said nothing. "I can't escape his memories. Oh god…wretched, wretched fate. Why did I have to fall in love with him?" Aragorn stopped as he heard those words. He was almost certain that those words were a figment of his imagination but when she repeated them, he knew that he was not mistaken.

He sat on the edge of the bed, disregarding the dirt that was now staining the pure material of the bed sheets. He stroked her hair gently as he whispered "I am home Guinevere. I am here to stay." Her cries stopped. Guinevere looked up with a grief and tear stricken face. Her eyes met his and her breaths caught. "No. I am dreaming. This cannot be true." Her fingers quivered as they moved to touch his cheek. "You are here." Her stare was innocent and childlike. Her fingers kept unwittingly touching his skin to ensure that he would not fade and prove to be an illusion. She gently turned onto her side and with a sudden burst of relief and a cry, she threw her arms around his neck. He immediately cradled in his own arms as she continued to weep in happiness.

"Legolas and Gimli told me you fell." Her hoarse whisper made him grip her closer.

"I know…I did." He said softly into her ear.

She finally made an attempt to pull away from him and with her small hands resting on his shoulders, Guinevere mentally inventoried his scrapes, bruises and wounds. There were so many, however, the worst of them was a deep gash that had not been disinfected. She could tell that it once teemed with blood. She questioned him softly and he gave her a silent nod. She took his arm into her hands and gently wiped a little of blood which had seeped from the wound. The sides were smothered and encrusted in blood and Guinevere could not contain her shock as how they were not yet infected. She pulled away from him, pushing aside the desperate need to return into his arms. "Wait here." She did not let him contest, only turning back to give him a tired yet firm glare.

The lady returned moments later with a bowl of warm water and fresh linen. She tore a large strip of the cloth and made to clean the wound. He flinched yet did not pull away. She moved his hand from the sheets to grasp her upper arm which was instantly encased in firm hold. She ignored it and continued to dip the linen into the basin. She ran it over every exposed strip of skin and gave him a small smile as she concluded with her ministrations.

"There much better." She told him. The water in the bowl was tinged with red and brown from the blood and grit she'd cleared. "You had better get it seen by the healers."

He nodded and stood up to leave "I must see Théoden immediately." He left in such a hurry that she was still left on the bed in confusion.

Aragorn's eye had caught the darkness that was beginning to appear in the sky and was promptly reminded of his news to Théoden. He silently cursed Legolas into convincing him to see to Guinevere first. He knew that he'd left her bewildered and perhaps a little hurt at his sudden leave but it was something that he could not put off any longer.

Théoden sat with his forearm braced against the arm of the chair. Háma had relayed some assessment that caused much unease among the warriors present. His reply never came as his attention was drawn to the large double doors leading to the throne room. They were pried open forcefully revealing Aragorn. Théoden looked at the man still not believing the sight before him. Aragorn stood before him rugged and worn yet it was the sense of strength that caused Théoden to recoil.

"All Isengard is emptied." Legolas and Guinevere exchanged worried glances as they heard Aragorn speak. Both had entered the hall mere minutes after Aragorn had greeted Théoden, "You must send out riders to call for aid."

Théoden ignored Aragorn's plea of calling for Gondor's aid and instead focused his attempts to gauging the army that was yet to come. Gondor would never come for Rohan's aid. It was an alliance that was broken long ago. Rohan had survived without the aid of others and it would do so this night.

"Ten thousand!?" The king exclaimed. He felt numerous eyes turn fearfully in his direction and recollected himself. He straightened his back and stared his challenger straight in the eye.

"Rohan cannot defeat the Uruk-hai alone Théoden King. An army bred with such a traitorous purpose will not relent."

"May the hall be emptied!" Théoden called and all the advisors, soldiers and strategists assembled left the hall. He turned to Gimli, Legolas and Guinevere who stood their ground. Their expressions told him firmly that _their king _had not ordered for them to remove themselves.

Théoden ignored them and set his eyes wholly on Aragorn. "These are men of Rohan, Aragorn. They have courage and they _will _fight. I carry the burden of Rohan's fate. 'Tis the decision of this king." He waved dismissively to the elf, dwarf and lady whose stance immediately grew more threatening. "Éomer has left these lands and the wizard's mission will be for naught. The old alliances are dead. Who will come? The elves?" The contempt in his voice was evident.

"Gondor will answer my lord." Guinevere look away from Théoden to Aragorn. There was nothing that could be done to sway Théoden's mind.

Théoden scoffed "Where was Gondor when Rohan was in need of aid at the Westfold? Where was Gondor when Uruk-hai scavenged my lands burning villages to the ground? Where was…" Théoden took a breath "No. Gondor will not come. We are truly alone in this war." He said resolutely.

"My lord, Lord Aragorn raises a fair point. This war is much bigger than the self-reliance of one country. If Rohan fell, then the last hope of saving Middle Earth will be lost! Gondor will be alone." Legolas told him firmly.

"Do not presume to tell me how to defend my keep, Prince." Théoden's words were laced in distain. "Ask your Lord Aragorn; there is no amount of years that can attain the glory that once was of Rohan. Gondor and Rohan had long forsaken the friendship that once existed between them. I shall not be the one to cause pain to myself by asking for Gondor's aid. They are strained bonds and such they will remain until the end of time."

Guinevere could tell that both men would be prepared to take up arms at this spar and moved forward. She laid a calming hand on Aragorn's forearm. She turned her attention to Théoden King who stood before her unrelenting "They will come Théoden King. Whether or not you are prepared to see the doomed fate of Rohan, they will come. I ask you respectfully to reconsider this decision." Aragorn gritted his teeth and straightened his shoulders.

Théoden nodded and walked away resolutely. He retreated further into the hall and took a calming breath. He could not remain idle for long as he continued to take persistent strides. Éowyn was certain that her uncle would wear a hole into the stone ground if continued this. She came up behind him and laid a comforting hand upon his arm.

"Uncle?" Théoden King came to a halt without meeting his niece's gaze as she stared intently at him.

"Is it true?" Her voice was quiet yet it somehow reverberated in the lonesome hall, "Do ten thousand Uruk-hai march to Helm's Deep as we speak?" Théoden gave his niece a small wistful smile. He placed his hand over hers.

"My dear, go into the caves." His voice brooked no opposition but the shieldmaiden who stood beside him was as stubborn as her mother once was.

She did not make a move to leave her uncle in peace. "We will not survive Uncle, will we?"

Théoden felt his inner-will tear very slowly to shreds. He took his hands into her own "You are young Éowyn. The young should not be burdened with the misfortunes of the old. Leave your elderly uncle be. There are decisions to be made and I refuse to see you partake in this burden which is my own."

"You will not call for the aid of Gondor?"

Théoden shook his head and turned away from her. His eyes met a large tapestry square that depicted the victories of Helm's Deep. There was doubt; only the slightest hint- yet it was ever present. Deep in his heart, Théoden knew that Aragorn was right in suggesting what he did, but Théoden could not. Denethor's mind was poisoned by evils that none could tell. He'd grown self-indulgent, priding himself in the misfortunes of other kingdoms. Théoden knew that he could call for aid but he would not take help from a self-serving country as Gondor. Nor would they oblige him. Théoden's pride would not allow him, his code would not allow him. No, it could not be done.

"Be at ease Éowyn. Rohan has weathered such evils before with great success."

Guinevere approached Aragorn touching his arm as though still afraid that she was dreaming. Her lips parted to speak but he stopped her. Taking her hand, he led them up the stairwell stopping at their loaned chambers. She felt the air shift as she entered the room. She felt the grief and loss that was now tied to the room's history. Such grief she had endured…Guinevere could not fathom that she'd survived it.

Unnerved at his choice setting, she hastily paced into the room choosing to stand by the window side. She turned to face him, willing him to break the silence.

Yet he said nothing. He merely stood with his toned arms folded over his chest. Her unease began to give way to something else.

She was at a loss as to what she could say. Guinevere saw much, observed much but very few of it could she put into words. More often than not, she remained unable to speak. Knowing this, Guinevere attempted to continue what she did best: observe. Her doubts ceased as her musings turned to the man in front of her. He was an enigma, even to those who were insightful, he remained a mystery. Strong-willed yet vulnerable, cold yet feeling, thoughtful yet reckless. She could not make him out. Priding herself in judgement of character, here stood the one man- a man nonetheless- that she could not decipher.

"You can't keep doing this to me." She told him. The words were meant to be harsh and impartial but all they sounded was helpless and imploring, "It's not fair Aragorn. It isn't. I let you leave only to find out that you were dead. You are so unpredictable; I can't even make you out! Destined to be a king, how can you be so reckless!?"

"I needed you. I needed you so very much. And you weren't there. You left me. Alone. In the darkness. Blind in the darkness. You never once considered that you might mean something to someone! You never considered what you might mean to me…" She threw her hands up in dismay still shedding tears, "You almost killed me Aragorn. Your _death _almost killed me. I'm done Aragorn. I. Am. Done. I can't keep doing this. I can't let myself get hurt, again and again. I'm through!"

Guinevere turned her back to him still sniffling. She felt two hands on her shoulders. Though her mind was unwilling, it seemed her body was of a different opinion. Her eyes found the floor. Guinevere kept them downcast, knowing that if she spared his handsome visage a single glance all her pent up resistance would be lost.

His fingers tenderly brushed her undried tears before laying harmlessly on her shuddering shoulders. "Hush. Now, will you listen to me?" His smooth deep voice washed over her but still she shook her head obstinately.

"Please?" Again her head shook violently. She made an attempt to face away from him but his grip tightened.

His hushed laugh made Guinevere twist her pressed lips, displeased that he found humour in this matter. "Did you mean it?" She didn't answer. "Do you love me?" She tried to swallow but her throat closed up. How desperately she wanted to tell him that he was mistaken but no lie could be made.

She nodded, clenching her eyes shut. She waited for his rejection but it never came. In its place, she felt his lips against hers. Her eyes flew open before fluttering shut once again. The tender kiss left her reeling as he pulled back. His hands were now wrapped around her in a protective embrace which she relished. "Why are you so afraid my love?"

She shuddered whimpered as he tucked her head into his chest. "I don't want to get hurt again Aragorn. When Gimli told me of your fall, I nearly died Aragorn. Right there, that moment. The heart of a woman is stout yet fragile. Like glass. If it is dropped, it will shatter, never to be mended. I've been heartbroken once Aragorn and I thought I'd forgotten how to love. Then I met you and…if you leave, Aragorn…I don't think I'd survive another heartbreak."

He shook his head "I promise you Guinevere I will _never _hurt you. I love you too much to even consider it."

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips which she could not repress even if she tried. The horror that loomed over them was forgotten as Guinevere gave into the delight of being in love. It was better than she remembered. Much more happiness, so much more relief…so much more love. Her heart soared. The carefree grin that graced his once hardened features was enough make her fall in love with him all over again.

The world she'd left behind, she'd almost forgotten. It was a distant memory. The few months that she'd spend alongside the Fellowship were happier than the twenty six years she'd spent in New York. She called it home but she'd never been quite as content there as she did now. She'd first joined Frodo to be with a friend. Now in this world still so unfamiliar to her, she'd not only made friends but had also found love. Her reality was no longer that sickly perfect life she lived in New York, it was here. In Middle Earth, alongside friends that she'd keep for life, in the arms of the man she loved. She felt like this was a dream. Like nothing would be real. Her lips curled up into a smile as she remembered her mother. There was a quote that her mother would recite to her religiously- something which she never understand.

"_You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."_

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other notes (tons of them today): (1) In regards to Theoden, he is a very complex character. Unlike all the others, he carries the burden of Rohan. He carries its fate. He may seem a little strange wen he speaks with Aragorn but frankly that's how he is feeling on the inside. He is confused. He wants to get help but knows that he cannot due to multiple complications: Denethor, his pride etc etc. Please be patient with him, his character will soon develop as it does in 'Return of the King'. (2) That aside, you will notice that I kept Gimli's meeting with Aragorn the same. That's because changing it would mean changing the way Gimli thinks and acts. It was perfect, hence I kept the scene _and _the dialogue the same. (3) In case, anyone thinks that Legolas should not have convinced Aragorn to go to Guinevere- that's the partially correct. I questioned myself when I wrote that part but Legolas is beginning to see the world from a different perspective. He's having things affect his emotions that would not normally happen. Eg: he would not have Aragorn fall off a cliff, he wouldn't have a heartbroken lady by his side etc. (4) Yes. I did quote Dr Seuss. It just seemed right and I didn't have much time to search up a quote.

**A/N: *Hides underneath pillow* So? How was that. Frankly, I'm absolutely scared you hated that chapter- I'm terrible at love scenes. It may seem sudden but frankly when you've had a near-death experience (both physically and mentally), you don't think about time. Or at least, that's what I think. Please be somewhat generous in your comments it _is _my first time writing something like this. Apologies for the long notes section but it was necessary- for my conscious at least. I really _really _hope you liked that and if you didn't, please bear with me! *Gets on knees begging and pleading***

Now here's the italics hints:

When I use only one italicized in a sentence like: "His name _was _Tavern" - it implies that the character is emphasising the word, either in speech or concept. **  
**

When I use italics for an entire section like: 'the beginning of this chapter' - it implies that it is something that is a memory or has happened in the past. Usually, I change tense so that shouldn't really be a problem.

When I use italics for one statement: '_Ah, the perks of a Hobbit._' - it implies that it is a thought. It will generally be in first person or something that you wouldn't normally say out loud in such a situation.

**The reason I don't use bold or underlines or things like that is because I, personally, believe that a person's attention is drawn to something that is indicated like it. So if I do memories in bold then subconsciously, most people will notice that part first. I really want everything to be read in the same order to build up the chapter. Just my opinion, but that is how I write. Au revoir! ****Satiné xx**


	13. Chapter 12: Ominous Winds

**Hi everyone! I wonder my last update was not so good (only some reviews- much appreciated!)...if it wasn't please just hang in there. I'm sure you'll enjoy the story more in next chapter or so. I just hope that people did enjoy it but simply didn't review...anyways: **** virtual hugs to**** LadyVanya, DamonsDarkness and Whrrtrudy for reviewing- it means a lot to me.**

**DamonsDarkness: So glad you loved it. Hope this one lives up to your expectations! :)**

**LadyVanya: Lovely to hear from you. Completely happy that you agree with my decisions. Like I have mentioned thousands of times, this is like a character study for me. Can't wait to hear from you for this next chapter. **

**Whrrtrudy: Well I'm glad I at least somewhat nailed the romance aspect of this story. Your first words had me terrified but I'm glad it was good. **

**Now, onto more important matters at hand: this chapter is _very _different. Well, perhaps that is an exaggeration but you'll notice something really strange which I have addressed in the other notes section below. Also, we get to see a lot of Boromir in the later half of this installment which I think is a breath of fresh air. Don't get me wrong: I love Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli but Boromir...oh! The possibilities! I'll let you get reading (and hopefully reviewing) so enjoy!**

******_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 12: Omnious Winds

The lights slowly began to die as darkness fell over Middle Earth as it had for so many years, however this night was not the same as those before it. No, this night was solemn and ominous. It held the weight of a death sentence as it loomed over them, laughing as terror ultimately began to seize the hearts of thousands. Their fate lay before them unstirring and cold and all who were present could do nothing but stare forlornly at the soon to be blood-drenched lands beyond Helm's Deep.

Those that resided within the stone corridors of the fortress were forcibly moved into the cave halls of the main structure. Wives cheeks' were tear-stained as they bid their husbands farewell and mothers clung on their sons panic stricken as they were torn from their very embrace. They clawed at the men taking their sons and grandsons away but still no relief came. Guinevere's heart was torn apart as strangers clung to each other in an attempt to comfort each other.

Death had no mercy. Every man, from the age of thirteen winters and up, was called to the armoury. Young muddled boys were pulled up from where their families had hidden them and were taken to the mouth of the cave. The grey haired men who had lived to see too much of the world attempted to take the youths' place. Their elderly weariness gave way to sorrow as they watched with bloodshot eyes as their pleading came to naught.

All Guinevere could muster was a wan smile to Legolas as she turned away from the Glittering Caves. When Théoden had first issued the order, Aragorn had been livid. He'd attempted to revert Théoden's decision but the stubborn man would not be swayed. Aragorn insisted that Théoden call for Gondor's aid but the man was too wrapped in self-certainty to consider it. This appeal too fell on deaf ears.

Guinevere retired up to her chambers that she shared with the remaining Fellowship. Inhaling deeply, she relished the momentary silence that she'd been granted. Guinevere eventually undid the stays on her dress and instead donned the fresh tunic and leggings that had been provided to her. She set her daggers, sword, quiver and bow on the mattress and then ventured into the chaos outside.

The armoury was bustling with men, all from clumsy, scared boys to the grey-haired men with sallow skin- yet the dimmed sparkle of wit still remained as an everlasting tale of their younger days. The elder donned their presented chain-mail under peasant clothes, wearing them with dread as haunting memories darkened their hearts; while the younger stared in disbelief at the large blades of their height and struggled to walk away with their heavy shield.

Guinevere weaved her lithe figure between the men as she spotted Legolas and Gimli a few paces in front of her. The room, while obviously equipped for such a stand, was not intended for it as there was barely any floor-space left for the newcomers who stood patiently outside awaiting their turn.

The dwarf and elf were watching their leader, who was still donning the clothes that he'd worn on his arrival. Aragorn moved amongst the somewhat queuing men to the Rohirrim issuing weaponry and picked up a stray sword. He inspected the blade and with some degree of annoyance, placed it back on the table. Even three feet away, both Legolas andGimli could tell that the blade was blunt and badly fashioned.

He approached still standing tall, though Guinevere could see the slight slump in his shoulders. His lips twitched imperceptibly before his expression grew stony and frustrated. Aragorn said something that she could not discern and once again her gaze was pulled away from them as one of the men pulled her aside. The king had a petite set of chainmail specially tailored for her size.

Gimli mirrored Aragorn's expression as he added his share to the conversation. He looked at a man who pushed in front of him distastefully. Aragorn nodded his assent with Legolas and Guinevere drew a shuddering breath. "Their fright, it is so clear in their eyes." The bustling of men halted as they heard his raised voice.

Legolas switched to Elvish noting their onlookers._"Boe a hûn…neled herain dan caer menig!"_

Aragorn was conflicted at how to answer this _"Si beriathar hýn. Amar nâ ned Edoras." _He reasoned.

"_Aragorn, men i ndagor. Hýn ú…ortheri. Natha daged aen!" _

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn yelled fiercely. Guinevere jumped- she'd never heard Aragorn so convicted in his speech. He paused drawing a breath before turning on his heel. Legolas made to go after him but Gimli held him back.

Guinevere looked around at the men. They stared with fright at the trio that remained. "Rohan has never fallen at the hands of the enemy and it never will Legolas." The men exchange worried looks before their features morphed into a defiant stare. A fierce battle cry erupted throughout them as they resumed preparing.

Aragorn leaned on the fortress staring aimlessly into the darkness. His elbows were rigid underneath the cold stone. "What are you thinking?" He heard Guinevere's soothing voice behind him but did not have the heart to turn and greet her.

"Have you ever seen the sun rise? The moment when the sun breaks through the veil of night and light is spread over the world once again?"

She hesitated in answering "Once…a long time ago." Contrary to what most considered, Guinevere did in fact wake later than any of the members of the Fellowship. She was unaccustomed to the harsh demands of the quest so they let her remain to gather as much strength as she could. "Why?"

"Never have I desired so greatly to see it." He gave a half-hearted laugh "It is truly a glorious sight. I wonder that we will ever see it..."

She placed her forehead on his shoulder and closed her eyes. One hand went to his arm, purposely missing he wound where the shirt had torn open, the other rested on next to her cheek. "We will."

"Guinevere…this," He gestured around him to the silent battlefield where soon blood would flow in rivers and behind them, the men could still be heard. "This isn't war. This a massacre." He gathered her into his arms and tightly held her. "There is a part of me that fears this battle, my love. With war comes loss and grief. I fear what is yet to come. We may well survive the night but what cost will we pay for this victory?"

She hugged him closer and her words were muffled by his shirt "Every victory comes with a price Aragorn. It is not for you to decide this price."

Aragorn sighed as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. "What terrifies me the most is that I can do naught but lead the men to their deaths. What must I do Guinevere? Is there anything I can do?"

"Give them courage, Aragorn. Give them hope. The Uruk-hai fight for nothing; these men fight for their families, their people, their king, their land. They _have _so much to fight for. Hope is what will keep them alive."

"How do you do it?" He rewarded her words with a small smile.

"Do what?"

"How do you know exactly what I need to hear?"

She smiled "I don't. Aragorn, you are already know what you have to do. All I do is give you strength to see it through." She cradled his face in her soft velvety hands "And give him time. Legolas is just having cold feet but when the time comes, he'll fight beside you. His loyalty lies with you as does his life.

Aragorn gave her a half-smile "Cold feet?"

She groaned letting her hands drop. "I give up!"

He laughed placing a chaste kiss on her lips. His hand came up to stroke her cheek. "I will see you soon." She nodded and watched him leave.

Now unoccupied, Guinevere sought to wander aimlessly. She made her way through the spiralling stone corridors and saw Legolas in an isolated watchtower. He paced in silence until she finally approached him. "Legolas?" The paled faced elf stared forlornly at her before returning to his pacing. Eventually frustrated she clasped his forearm causing him to stop.

"We can't win this." Legolas insisted.

"Was that what you and Aragorn were arguing about?"

"Yes."

"But surely they stand a better chance here at Helm's Deep. There were too many liabilities at Edoras as was."

"They go to their deaths Guinevere. The Uruk-hai numbers at too great. Rohan stands no chance against an army of ten thousand."

"Perhaps that may be; but what if there was a chance that we could survive this night?"

"What chance have we against them?"

The lady spun around as she watched the sun be engulfed in darkness. All that remained was a small glimmer of light beneath the night. Her eyes fluttered shut in a moment of madness. The warmth of sun ghosted across her face.

"I see it Legolas." She whispered. "I see the lone light shining in a veil of darkness."

She met his gaze. A strange calm spread over him as he stared into her brown eyes that oddly comforted him in this time of uncertainty.

"Hope is within our grasp. And all that stands in our way is an army of ten thousand Uruk-hai. Is not the chance to fight for our future enough to take up arms? Is not the slight chance to see Sauron fall enough to renew hope in a world devoid of it?"

Guinevere leant against the wood doorway as she watched Aragorn don the chainmail underneath his leather jerkin. He picked up the leather belt that held his sword and wore it with practised eased. He secured the cords of the jerkin with deft fingers and reached for his sword. Guinevere shifted with a smile as Legolas handed it to him first. "We have trusted you this far. You have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair." Legolas admitted shamed.

"Ú-moe edhored, Legolas." He told his friend who smiled. Aragorn clapped his shoulder firmly gripping it and Legolas returned the favour. Their attention turned to Gimli who had arrived, struggling with his chain mail.

"If we had more time I'd get this adjusted." He dropped the bundle and the chain mail hit the floor pooling at his feet. Guinevere came behind from the shadows. She grinned. "It's a little tight across the chest." Guinevere laughed as Aragorn and Legolas bit back smiles with mock understanding nods.

All four made their way into the open of the fortress. "Too few fight this night." Legolas commented as they watched from above as the soldiers, men and boys alike bustled around with their heavy armour and weapons.

"Théoden should've called for aid." Gimli grumbled.

"We will survive this night. Hope is on _our _side this time." Guinevere added. The certainty in her voice stunned the other three of the Fellowship but they chose not to comment on her peculiar behaviour.

The torches of the fortress were being lit and the last of women and children were being barricaded in the Glittering Caves. Guinevere, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli stood unable to fathom what was yet to come. They heard a horn in the distance. It was faint but Guinevere knew _they _had arrived. She smiled as she heard one of the men order the gate to be opened. Aragorn immediately turned to her "What did you do?" He eyed her suspiciously.

"Nothing." Guinevere batted her eyelashes seemingly innocent.

She ran down the stairs two at a time with Aragorn at her heels and Legolas and Gimli a few stairs behind the pair.

First to emerge from the doors was a certain black coated horse. He reared fiercely refusing to be taken hold of by anyone other than his mistress. Guinevere welcomed Belan into her arms and her brave stallion nudged her neck affectionately. She doted on him, stroking his nose until she saw the men he brought with him.

"I am Adrahil, son of Thorondir my Lady Guinevere. I bring with me tidings from Lord Boromir."

"You are most welcome Lord Adrahil." Guinevere greeted him warmly as Belan left her side to be sheltered with the other horses.

"What is this?" Théoden asked as he descended the short flight of stairs.

"Gondor brings aid Théoden King." Adrahil told him.

"How many could be spared?" Guinevere asked him worriedly.

"Too few my lady. The orcs march toward Osgiliath and Lord Faramir left the north to patrol the borders. I bring two hundred men with me."

Guinevere nodded, contemplating silently before looking back up at him "Even one man is a blessing Lord Adrahil. You bring with you two hundred. That is more than we can ask for, my lord. And how fares your lord?"

"Lord Boromir is much recovered and I believe, if will allow me to say so, that he is constantly reminded of you all, particularly you Lady Guinevere."

Guinevere gave him a brilliant smile which Adrahil returned before turning to Théoden "There once existed an alliance between Gondor and Rohan. Long ago the men of Middle Earth fought and died as brothers-in-arms. We have come to honour this allegiance."

Théoden gave them a slow nod and smile of satisfaction.

Adrahil looked past Théoden King to a weather-beaten ranger standing alongside an elf and a dwarf. Adrahil did not so much as blink as he watched the man descend the stairs. Before him stood Lord Aragorn, heir of Gondor. Lord Boromir had told him of this man but standing face to face with him...there were no words in any tongue that could describe Lord Aragorn accurately. His smile grew as he bowed before Lord Aragorn. "Adrahil, son of Thorondir at your service." Aragorn broke his bow and clasped his shoulder, "Thank you." Adrahil nodded still in awe at this man before him.

And so the alliance of Gondor and Rohan was reforged…and now all that remained was the battle to begin.

Boromir heaved a breath and smiled as he relished in the warmth of his home. He'd returned but a few days prior and was immediately admitted to his father who was overjoyed to meet him. He was always Denethor's favourite son- something he despised since his childhood.

He stood alone within the walls that he'd grown up in. As a child, he meticulously explored the palace; every hiding spot to be found was discovered and every secret passageway walked through. His most cherished childish escapade was perhaps when he'd steal away from his lessons and stray into the lower levels of Minas Tirith. His partner in crime was his younger brother, Faramir.

Five years Boromir's junior, the younger son of Denethor was at a constant battle for his father's affection. He strove for perfection to please his father but Denethor always loved Boromir more. He saw the right in Boromir's actions and turned a blind eye to his shortcomings, determined to blame Boromir's wrong on Faramir. Faramir was the one who followed the rules by the book and Boromir was the one who broke them _because _they were in the book.

However, this never deterred Faramir. Instead he idolised his older brother to the ends of the Earth. Boromir took it upon himself to care for his young and innocent brother. His love for Faramir was only fractional to that which he'd received.

Their mother has passed five years after Faramir was born. Finduilas was without a doubt a most beautiful woman. However, this beauty could shadow the curse that she'd been destined to endure. Their mother was of sweet words and a gentle heart- something desirable to all women. Her marriage, one considered to be of love and passion, was doomed as Finduilas began to realise that her husband, though he adored her, had another love: Gondor. Denethor was a proud and ambitious man and though twenty years his junior, she had wisdom that surpassed her husband.

Her spirit was condemned to fade the day she married Denethor II, son of Ecthelion. She grieved in silence at the evils that were now beginning to threaten her world and the desire to return home by the seaside grew with each passing day. Desperate to weather these troubled times, she'd devote all her time to the welfare of her sons. Faramir had lost the memories of his mother, as he was but a child, but Boromir clung onto them determinedly. Their mother had loved them both equally yet she was always partial to her younger son. Boromir could not fault their mother in this decision. Now weakened after the birth of her second son, Finduilas was forced to see her husband reject his younger son only to dote upon his elder. She would hold Faramir in her arms as Denethor would repeatedly run his son over refusing to take him into his embrace. All the while, Boromir was held tightly in his arms. The four year old boy watched in confusion as his father paid no heed to his brother.

Then one day, the strained yet tinkling laughter and tender footsteps chasing Boromir were gone. It was a memory that haunted Boromir every day since. Finduilas has been tucked away in her chambers as she had remained for much of the remainder of the latter days of her marriage. She'd been playing with a young Boromir on the balcony of her chambers when she'd heard Faramir cry out for her from inside. She'd run her hand through Boromir's hair and made to stand upright. There was something strange that came into her eyes- something which Boromir could not tell even years later. The dimming sun illuminated her features and a strange sense of peace fell over her features. And with that she crumbled to the ground. The frightened young child attempted to shake his mother awake whilst his brother grew silent but still she would not move. He'd run to his father who was deeply engrossed in a meeting. Boromir still remembered his father as he tried to wave the child away but he had been was relentless. Finally, Denethor arrived at his chambers only to see his wife's dead body spread across the floor. Faramir came onto the stone patio and stared in quiet disbelief of his mother.

From this day forward, both brothers had not only been deprived of their mother but also their father's love. Denethor grew cold and set his sights on claiming the throne for his own. He would remain locked up in the Palantír Chamber for hours on end, paying no heed to the ever revolving world around him. Boromir revelled in his mother's memories but Faramir never received that fortune. For this reason, Boromir made it his task to try and make up for his brother's loneliness. The bond between brothers was only made stronger by this.

The elder one always dragged the younger into the city which bustled with life. There was so much to see…the smells of exotic spices brought from lands far far away, the familiar warmth at the smithy who worked tirelessly to sharpen blades and manufacture swords. He would prank the stall keepers who would scowl and then smile at his antics whilst Faramir was busy watching in fascination at the big world around him. While Boromir had the liberty of leaving the palace, Faramir was never allowed.

His younger brother had ventured north, under his father's insistence to patrol the borders with a band of soldiers. He'd farewelled Boromir when he left for Rivendell and shortly thereafter was sent away by Denethor. He'd not heard nor seen of his brother since.

Imagine his shock when Boromir had been greeted by a certain black stallion who came with a piece of parchment stuck in his reins. Boromir had been elated to find that he'd received correspondence from his dear friend Guinevere after few days into his arrival at Minas Tirith. Her writing was clean and proper with elegant cursives at selective letters. She spoke of the weather (something which he'd realised she did quite frequently) and then of Rohan. As it turned out, his suspicions had indeed been true. Théoden King's mind had been poisoned by Saruman. His joyous surprise was too great to be contained at hearing that Gandalf too had returned to bear the rest of the journey with the Fellowship. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf had met her some miles from Edoras itself.

She then informed of the impending threat to Rohan by Saruman. Guinevere was quite certain that Théoden would not call for aid, much less help from Gondor. It was not too absurd. However, she still feared for the safety of the innocents that were being uprooted from their homes to the great fortress of Rohan, Helm's Deep. She asked him to send what men he could spare, keeping in mind that Sauron's eye was still fixed upon the White City. Boromir was well aware of this. The nights grew darker and faraway in the distance of a crescent moon night, he'd be able to see the sky light up dangerously. Mordor had become an increasing threat to Gondor over the years and now nothing stood between them but the small fortress, Osgiliath.

He'd immediately gotten up from his perch in one of the high towers and began to issue out orders for the men to leave. Denethor had not supported Boromir's endeavour to assist the Rohirrim but still, he chose not to fault his beloved son's decision. Carefully rationing the numbers that he could send, Boromir eventually half-heartedly decided to send two hundred men. It was not many especially with a foe of ten thousand at least but he tried nevertheless.

A day or so after the Gondorian soldiers had left, word had reached Boromir that Adrahil had arrived safely at Helm's Deep. A network of scouts had been located at various posts throughout the realm in hopes to intervene in any of Sauron's impending attacks. The scout had informed him that they were welcomed readily by Guinevere who seemed more than relieved to see them. Théoden King was more reluctant but he too was beginning to relent.

Boromir stared out over the mountains, his keen eyes spotting Mordor with little to no effort. Lightening crackled high in the heavens above Sauron's realm. The bolts of thunder shuddered indefinitely leading down to a structure which was beyond Boromir's sight, hidden deep behind the mountains. His eyes were fixed in the distance at a black swarm that moved at a frightening pace in the thick of the night. He issued the men to prepare for the impending battle at Osgiliath. Faramir's men were due to return in a fortnight's time however Boromir feared that the orcs would've arrived by then.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other Notes: (1) First of all, I am very surprised that a good number of you actually read this section so...hey! Hi! Welcome to my rants paragraph! (2) Yes, yes. I know. I love Haldir too but nevertheless, this tough decision must be made- here's why. I want the final showdown at Minas Tirith to reflect the battle against Sauron (Isildur & Elrond's time). I want give a contrast between the two times and how Middle Earth has changed since then. In order to do this, I need to build up Rohan-Gondor relationship. The earlier I can, the more effect I can get hence Adrahil's arrival with 200 Gondorians. (2) I hope you enjoyed the Boromir and Faramir excerpts. Now that Boromir hasn't been cut out of the picture, I really want to develop his character; and Faramir is an amazing character to write. PS: What did you think of Finduilas? There actually not that much on her but she _is _a key character in Boromir's life. Plus she's a very inspirational character too. (3) Now, I address the use of film dialogue in this story. When I write, I picture everything in my head. Some scenes are exactly the same as the film because they are just too perfect to ruin. For this reason, I like to follow the dialogue so you can literally picture that scene as I have.

**So, now that my rant is done (I don't know- one of my favourite writers did something like this and I read every single word...), I hope you will review. I promise that the writing quality will improve tons in following chapters. This one was really hard for me to write; I don't why but I think it was because I had to get down the emotion that came with this entire section. Reviews are greatly appreciated and a MASSIVE shout out to all my _63 _followers plus one (yes, my darling guest reviewer: S. ) You guys are really treasured here and for everyone else who reads my stories, thanks! Feel free to leave feedback or ideas that you might want to see in the future. I'll do my best to add it in if it works with the direction I'm taking. Until next week. Satiné xx**


	14. Chapter 13: Surviving the Night

**A/N: Welcome back to another chapter of _And So The Journey Begins_. I am so looking forward to posting this chapter. Thanks to the reviewers and everyone who is taking their time in following this story. This is quite a repetitive chapter- I am very nearly kept the Battle of Helm's Deep the same, only it is from Guinevere's point of view. So if you desire, you can skip it. I would rather you not (because I love the reviews [insert cute smile]). Bear with me here, I promise the next chapter will definitely be something of a treat to all my readers. There is a short preview at the end for you all. **

**Bory68: Thanks for giving that piece of information. I appreciate it. **

**BlossomsatSunrise: That's really sweet. I was wondering if anyone would notice that. **

**LadyVanya: I had an amazing smile on my face the entire day after reading your review. Thank you so much! Finduilas' segment was actually not in the original chapter but I had been playing with the idea for some time and after finally tracking down her history, I figured it would be great to attempt writing her in. I am very glad that you approve of the Gondor/Rohan underlying plot. **

**Guest reviewer: Well I hope I have updated soon enough. Great to know that I also have guest readers reading this story. Enjoy!**

**Now that I have addressed all my wonderful reviewers, I shall conclude this author's note and let you read on. **

**********_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 13: Surviving the Night

That same night, as Boromir stood watching over his city, the men of Rohan and Gondor stood on the battlements of Helm's Deep. Guinevere stood between legions of men as she watched the sea of thousands of torches arrive. In the caves, Éowyn clutched a nearby child close to her breast as the rumbling outside grew. Their fierce growls rose with their proximity. Women huddled in various corners of the Glittering Caves began to whimper and children's cries resonated in the dimly lit caves.

Guinevere's bow was held with the tail eased against the ground lightly. Her fingers trembled as she took a few calming breaths and took hold of the bow again. Legolas' bow was held against his shoulder as were the Gondorians' alongside them. The elf's expression was grim with his jaw set and lips pressed into a thin line of defiance. Gimli jumped repeatedly as he attempted to see beyond the stone wall which obstructed his view. "You could've picked a better spot." He grumbled. Legolas smirked wanly as Guinevere's own grim expression gave way to a gentle smile.

Aragorn strode to them with utter surety. He waivered not as he came to her. She took his hand into hers blindly, almost unnoticeably leaning into him. He squeezed her hand and stood beside them. "Well lad, whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night." Guinevere jumped as thunder lit the skies. Rain pelted upon them but the men stood their ground. The Uruk-hai continued to march toward the fortress. There was not one man on the fortress that did not feel fear of the impending battle. Legolas' eyes grew wide seeing the Uruk-hai in numbers that had only ever been spoken of. "Your friends are with you Aragorn."

"Let's hope _they _last the night." Guinevere exchanged a glance with Aragorn. He walked away.

Aragorn eyed the Gondor soldiers as their bows quivered slightly. His strides only wavered once as he took a shaky breath. He held himself responsible for what would happen. His eyes moved from the stone floor to beyond the walls where the army approached them. He gritted his teeth as his hands tightened into a fist "What do you see before you?" His rhetoric question was met with concerned glances. "An army of fierce Uruk-hai my lord." One answered quietly and the others nodded in agreement. Aragorn shook his head "I see an army of heartless creatures fighting mindlessly and recklessly for a wizard who values nothing but Sauron's will." He bellowed and thoughts that had been stirred within the souls of the men were evident on their expressions. "What will be the fate of Middle Earth at the hands of Sauron? I do not fight for my life; I fight for the lives that will be endangered if Sauron's will takes places. I will perish one day and my bones will turn to dust but Middle Earth will still stand. So I fight that Middle Earth remains safe within the hands of good." The wills of the men around him were beginning to lose their fear and regain their courage. "Fight not for yourselves, fight for your families, fight for Gondor...fight with the hope that good will prevail." A cheer arose from the men causing Théoden King to avert his gaze in their direction.

The Uruk-hai had stopped a half mile of the wall and they formed even rows. Aragorn made his way to the front of the line. He watched fearlessly as they began to growl.

Gimli was more occupied with jumping as he was still straining to see them. "What's happening out there?"

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas turned to him with a grin "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

Gimli stared at him in momentary confusion before his face broke into a mocking grin. He laughed in true dwarf fashion making Guinevere lose her target.

The Uruk-hai battered their shields into the ground. If this was an attempt at intimidating the men on the wall then there was no doubt that they'd succeeded. An arrow was accidentally sent flying and Aragorn reiterated his order of not firing yet. Guinevere still commended the man on his aim as the tip was firmly lodged into a gap in the Uruk-hai's armour. The roaring stop and the impending silence was deafening. With a final cry, they charged at the wall.

Aragorn drew his sword and gave the volley to fire. With practised hands, the men notched their longbows, with each arrow poised at a target. The arrows rained down upon the Uruk-hai and the entire first line fell to the ground. "Did you hit anything?" Guinevere gave a sideways glance to the dwarf. However, she had no time to contemplate this as another line took the fallen one's place. She took up another arrow from her quiver with trembling hands and aimed it, killing another Uruk-hai straight in the forehead. "Fire on will!" He called as the men began to shoot down the approaching creatures at a faster pace. She increased her killing rate by almost double, still not competing with Legolas but with more surety than some of the younger Gondorian soldiers. The Uruk-hai archers began to shoot and the lines retreated. That been said, her prime agenda was to survive the battle and kill any unfortunate Uruk-hai that come in the way. As ladders were being propped against the wall, Aragorn yelled to draw swords.

The ladders slammed heavily against the stone fortress and with very few moments to prepare, Guinevere managed to swing her sword in time to kill the Uruk-hai who was poised to attack at the tip of the ladder. She vaguely saw Gimli slid between one's legs and lodge his axe blade into his stomach. Legolas had not yet brought out his blades, still using his bow and arrows as his prime weapon. One particularly large Uruk-hai approached Aragorn and for a split-second her eyes were torn from her own fight to see him duck out of the Uruk-hai blade's way and stab him. She fell back as she stumbled over a dead corpse, just out of reach of the offending Uruk-hai's spear. She decapitated him, only wincing slightly as the head landed beside her. She pulled herself up in time to hear Gimli.

"Legolas! Two already!" The dwarf fingered the number.

Legolas nodded in assent with his elvish smirk as he spun a spear out of the Uruk-hai's hands with his bow. "I'm on seventeen."

Gimli frowned "Huh? I'll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!" With a battle cry, he jabbed his axe in between an Uruk-hai's legs.

Legolas shot another two arrows before calling to Gimli "Nineteen!"

Gimli very nearly yelled in desperation and began killing faster.

Guinevere grinned despite the situation and slashed an Uruk-hai across the chest before spinning with the precision of a dancer and slid her sword through the one behind her.

A forest away, the Ents stood tall with their branches and bark. Pippin felt like curling into a ball and hiding away; the Ents towered over the two hobbits unlike anything he'd seen before. When they were still in the Shire, Pippin had always thought that trees were the tallest things in this world...well, apart from mountains- how he longed to see them. However, after the journey he'd endured, his desire to see the mountains had waned into an indistinct recollection of his lack of knowledge. Now mountains and massive trees were the farthest thing from his mind and the one thought that constantly plagued him was that of his and Merry's survival in this world.

"We have agreed…." Treebeard began as the assembly of Ents around him stared in wonder at the two short hobbits.

Merry pursued his lips, raising his eyebrow "Yes?"

"…I have told your names to the Entmoot…and we have decided…you are not orcs."

Pippin shrugged with a creased forehead "Well, that's good news." He looked to Merry but his friend was not content with this verdict.

"But what about Saruman? What decision have you made of him?"

"Now, now…don't be hasty…Master…Meraidoc…" Treebeard told them gently.

"Hasty?" Merry narrowed his eyes at the Ent "Our friends are out there! They need our help! They cannot fight this war alone!" He exclaimed outraged. Pippin chose to remain silent.

"This war affects us all…but you must understand…it takes a long to say…anything in Old Entish…and we never say anything unless…it is worth taking a long time…to say."

Guinevere groaned in exhaustion as she continued to slaughter Uruk-hai left and right. The back of her wrist was raised to her forehead wiping the sheer lining of sweat. She picked up a second blade which lay forgotten as its owner lay cold on the ground still donning the embossed breastplate and silver vambraces of Gondor. Guinevere spotted Adrahil not too far from her place. She screamed his name over the Uruk-hai and the clashing of swords. The tip of her sword ran deeply across the offending Uruk-hai's back as Adrahil turned on his heel in distractedly. He eyed the Uruk-hai corpse lying between them.

"Thank you." He nodded with gratitude.

She mirrored Adrahil's previous movements as she was met by a skewered Uruk-hai, his mouth contorting into a repulsive groan. She met his eyes with a fierce glare of her own. They then shifted to the neck which oozed with blackened blood around the sword blade. Adrahil tugged it out swiftly and both he and Guinevere sidestepped the spray of gore that followed. Guinevere cringed. "Now we're even." She whirled skillfully as they continued to fight.

"Aragorn!" Guinevere frantically called. Adrahil nudged her in Aragorn's direction and both she and Aragorn fought their way to the edge of the fortress which was crawling with Uruk-hai. Their eyes were set on the band of Uruk-hai that were progressing up the main gate of Helm's Deep. "Archers! The Gate! Defend the Gate!" He raised his voice and Gondorian archers immediately changed their aim to the Uruk-hai that ducked behind large black shields. The arrows were sent flying in their direction and they fell off the edge of the descent. Guinevere scowled as she saw Théoden comfortably placed away from all the chaos.

"Togo hon dad Legolas!" Aragorn yelled and Guinevere turned her attention down below where an Uruk-hai was running towards the grate in the wall. He held a torch of fire in his hands. Legolas fired a swift arrow which caught the Uruk-hai in the shoulder yet he kept running. Guinevere resheathed her sword urgently and strung an arrow on her bow. She focused heavily on the target as her aim was never good with moving targets. The arrow sailing through the thick of the night and found itself on the Uruk-hai's leg whilst Legolas' hit his chest. She smiled in satisfaction as the creature stumbled and the lit fire sparkler tumbled to the ground. What she'd failed to see was the Uruk-hai behind her. She felt a presence behind her. Guinevere shielded her face from her forearm which now bore a deep wound. She stabbed him with her sword before staggering back into the wall. Bracing herself against it, she could barely hear Aragorn approach her.

"Guinevere!" he cradled her in his arms, paying no heed to what happened around him.

"Ssh." She told him softly "I am okay. It's just shock." She gave him a weak smile.

"Go behind the gates."

"No!" She cried vehemently, "No. Please Aragorn, I am well."

She didn't let him speak. Instead she tore the hem of her tunic and roughly bound it around her wound to constrict the blood flow. She picked up her sword and with a deep breath pushed herself upright. As they stood, she watched in terror as the door once barred was now broken through with Uruk-hai archers blindly shooting arrows at the company assembling behind the wood doors.

The Uruk-hai with the sparkler has died but much to Guinevere's dismay many more were lined up to take on the task.

Aragorn helped her keep upright, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her upper arm. "Listen to me Guinevere. You _must _go to the king and raise the alarm. We cannot hold them for much longer. The women and children must escape. Now!"  
She looked to the ground as he spoke, taking in his words like the air she breathed with such necessity. It took her a moment to comprehend his order but nevertheless she nodded and began to make her way deeper into the fortress.

Guinevere staggered up the stairs, leaning heavily on the stone wall that curled up the stairwell. "My lord." She panted as she collapsed into a heap on the ground. Her hair was matted with grit and there was scarcely an inch of her caramel skin that was not covered blood and dirt. She must've been quite a frightful sight. "Lord Aragorn sends orders to let the women and children escape. The men cannot hold the fortress for much longer." Théoden stared down at her in frustration. His brow was lined with worry. "No." Guinevere almost cried as she heard that one word, "This is all that Saruman can conjure, Lady Guinevere. There is no need to evacuate the women and children for no army has ever breached Hornburg." "King Théoden, look around you. Battalions of Uruk-hai whose blades have not yet tasted blood stand before us. They are only men. Eventually, they will tire. How many men are left sire? How many can still fight?"

Théoden was about to argue his case but the words were cut short by a loud explosion. She watched in horror as the Deeping Wall was shattered to stone rumble. A flash of searing light followed by thick smog. The Uruk-hai began to run anew into the fortress of Rohan. Guinevere cried out. "Aragorn." His name was a whisper on her lips, not even sounded. She attempted to make her way down to the wall but Háma held her back from doing any more damage to herself. He forcefully tugged her into one of the frontal rooms just before the entrance of the caves. "Rest." He told her firmly. He eyed the deep gash on her arm but she waved him away. "Leave it be. It will heal once this is over." He provided her with some soothing salve to prevent inflammation. "I will return soon." He promised her quietly and left. And so she was left to wallow in self-pity and misery as she heard the thunderous sounds of battle beyond the safety of the inner walls. It was the first time she'd realised how terrified the women, children and ill must be. While terror was wreaked at the battlefield, here, the women had to endure the cries of the dead and growls of the orcs without knowing if the next moment would be their last. There she sat with tears spilling over her dirty cheeks, cradling her arm as it bled. The white linen cloth she held to it had now turned a scarlet red as her blood seeped into the material.

Merry turned to Pippin furiously clasping the younger hobbit's shoulder "There won't _be _a Shire Pippin."

As his friend stormed off no doubt to vent his discontent, Pippin stared unconsciously at the ground. Pippin could not seem to grasp the thought of his Shire being lost. His heart ached at the thought of losing the Shire. It was a small world within itself. All that visibly remained a part of Middle Earth were the lush green fields. It was always so beautiful in the Shire. The sun was never too hot, only warm enough for the content of the hobbits. Darkness did fall during the eve but never did Pippin feel fear as he did now. The Shire was away from the evils of the world. The hobbits were innocent and rightfully so. Pippin had seen the world beyond the safety of the Shire and it frightened him. For Sauron and Saruman's hold to grow so strong that even Hobbiton would be within their grasp, Pippin knew that the world would be reduced to nothing. But what could a little three-foot hobbit do in a world so much bigger than himself?

Faramir and the Gondorian rangers approached the hilly terrain; familiar to the younger son of Denethor like the back of his hand. The men's stares were trained on the sight of the burning ruins of the fortress. The company drew slightly closer as they looked on in horror. The sky- it was grey; grey like the ruins of Osgiliath. Its splendour was lost in the first battle but it remained within the hold of Gondor. Now it was even more crumbled and charred at the hands of Sauron's orcs. It was not completely set alight and so Faramir knew that his brother was still defending the keep.

"Osgiliath burns!" One said from behind his brown hood.

"Mordor has come." Another commented drawing the hood of his cloak away from his face.

He looked over his shoulder to the two hobbits behind him with a grim expression. "We must hurry." He told them and the two hobbits complied with their wrists still bound. Frodo has warned Sméagol away and the creature was now somewhere deep within the dingy caverns of the wild. "Let us go Faramir! We are of no use to you!" Frodo pleaded. "I regret to inform you that as my father's keep over these lands, I cannot allow you to run freely after creating the offense you did. You trespass on our lands and only Lord Denethor, steward of Gondor, will give the final verdict." He looked remorseful as he said this but nevertheless pushed the two hobbits further down the rocky path.

Guinevere jumped up from her place by the door as she saw the remaining Gondorian and Rohirric soldiers clamour and stumble inside. She felt a sense of Déjà vu as she found herself searching Aragorn. Relief flooded her as she saw the man himself not far behind Legolas and Gimli. She did not pull him aside, instead she chose to observe him from afar. He assisted Legolas in lifting a hefty plank of wood as they jarred it over the door, the last barrier between them and the Uruk-hai that had swarmed Helm's Deep.

"Leave it be! What can be done down?" Théoden called to the men. They halted for a split second and Aragorn could feel the room radiate terror.

He abandoned his task, instead choosing to approach Théoden who stood not too far from them "You once told me that this battle would be over when every single man of Rohan and Gondor has perished. Your men still defend the keep, my lord. They have died trying to save it. Those men did not die in vain Théoden King."

"Is there no other way to leave Helm's Deep?"

Háma looked sideways to his king who frowned heavily. "There is a back path leading into the mountains; but they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many."

Guinevere walked up behind him. "The way I see it, if we take the pass there may be some who survive this. It is worth a try."

"And who will lead them?"

"Éowyn can." Guinevere volunteered with gritted teeth as she sucked in a breath at the pain that rippled through her arm.

Théoden looked as though he would protest but then affirmed the decision.

As soon as Théoden had begun to prepare, Aragorn took Guinevere to the side of the room. He was desperate to continue helping with the men but if Guinevere continued to remain as stubborn, then all would be naught for him. Aragorn could not lose her.

"I want to you to go with them." He told her firmly.

The glare that Guinevere sent back told him that she was not going to relent, "I love you Aragorn but that doesn't mean I'm going to comply to your orders. I'm not one of your soldiers."

He took her face into his hands "_I know_. I know; that is why I am asking you to. You are very important to me, Guinevere. If ever I lost you…" He trailed off unable to voice such a haunting fear.

She smiled gently and took hold of his wrists with delicate fingers "We're not going to survive this. Ssh…you don't have to lie with me. But if there was one wish that I could have now- other than seeing Gandalf appear- it would be to die at your side. Tell me you understand?"

He nodded quietly still resolute "I understand." His eyes shot up to meet hers "That doesn't mean I have to like it." The half-smile she gave him made him growl "If we survive this night, you are going to be in a lot of trouble."

"Does that mean I can stay?"

"Yes, but…"

Now it was her turn to growl. "But?"

"I want you to stay within the walls." She frowned uncomprehendingly "Promise me!" He shook her with a force that stunned even himself.

"Okay." She meekly nodded, "I promise."

Aragorn nodded contently and then sought to assist the men with boarding up the door.

"What can men do against such reckless hate?" Théoden asked warily. It was not posed to one such person but it challenged the men for a response, "Death's curse has been laid upon the fate of Rohan."

"Ride out and meet them."

Guinevere's heart stopped as she heard his words. She sent him an accusing stare which was then dominated by hurt. She could not break her promise to him and he was forcing her to remain behind.

Théoden stared at Aragorn with surety and determination shining within his eyes. "For death and glory." His head tilted slightly punctuating his words.

"For your people. For Rohan." Aragorn reiterated.

Guinevere's gaze travelled up to a small opening in the wall where the sun faintly glistened into the room. A single beam of light shone through the window. "The sun rises. The dawn has broken." She whispered. Guinevere tried to read the unmoving expression that has dawned over Aragorn's features.

"Let us fight for our valour. For our honour. For our death."

Théoden acknowledged Aragorn's words fuelled with certainty as he ordered for the horn of Helm Hammerhand to be sounded. Gimli grinned a toothy grin- the first since they had arrived at Helm's Deep. He ran up the steps that coiled upwards.

Théoden left Aragorn's side to prepare the horses for the final stand. Guinevere wanted to go to Aragorn, to cry and beg him to revoke his decision. She wanted to clutch onto him until he had no choice but to abide by her wishes. Yet her feet remained rooted to the ground and all she could do was numbly stare at him. His eyes searched hers for reassurance. She erased any doubt she felt and gave him a solemn nod.

As Brego was led to him, Aragorn swiftly mounted the steed and drew his sword from its sheath. Guinevere shifted backwards in the direction of the women and children who had begun to escape the fortress.

The children scrambled from the ground, weaving and darting between the legs of the elderly and the women as they attempted to reach the mouth of the caves. The women clutched their few belongings to their chests and pushed between their neighbours. Éowyn watched them with empathy, noting that her companion's countenance held the same compassion. The pair stood immobile as they witnessed the chaos that had erupted amongst the remaining citizens of Rohan. There were a women that led the party.

Guinevere felt Éowyn's gaze on her from the corner of her eye but did nothing to meet it. Quite frankly, she felt inadequate. She felt scared and something disturbing had welled within the depths of her heart. Prayers to the Valar were lost under the incessant wails, terror-filled cries and shuffling of feet. Her sword hung loosely in her hand. The blade pointed to the earth that she stood upon.

"Was this what my wish was? Was this the wish that I was granted?" Éowyn commented nearly inaudibly.

Guinevere lifted her head with a shuddering breath and turned to the shieldmaiden who looked forlornly at her own sword. "I…I am sorry. About what I said when we first met."

Éowyn's smile was mirthless as she twirled the sword expertly in her hand. "Do you hear them?" Both women went silent. They did not have to strain to hear the Uruk-hai anymore. "Am I coward? That my hands quiver as I unsheath my sword? That every part of my being is numbed with terror?"

"The strength of a sword-bearer is not in his hands, it is in his mind. It is his courage. I see yours, shieldmaiden of Rohan. Now let your grip define your courage."

"Am I am going to die this morn?"

"If _we _do…" Guinevere lay a hand on her shoulder "…it will be alongside a friend." Éowyn nodded and both braced their weapons as they heard the wooden beams barring the doors break. The growls of Uruk-hai fouled the air and grew louder in sound. As the first of the creatures emerged hungrily, panicked cries emerged from the remaining of the occupants of the caves. They both heard the horn bellow deeply and the rushing of horse hooves. Guinevere was first to make a kill and Éowyn soon followed the elder lady by example. Swords slashed through the Uruk-hai at an alarming rate as both women yelled behind them for the others who remained behind to escape.

Brego reared as with some of the other horses. The men charged with their swords drawn just as the wooden barrier was broken through. Théoden led them, slashing his sword haphazardly killing any Uruk-hai which dared cross his path. Aragorn spun the blade with deft hands as the Uruk-hai fell faster than dandelions. The few warriors, both of Rohan and Gondor were mounted on horses as they stormed out from the gate. The steeds trotted with certainty as their riders killed the impending Uruk-hai. Aragorn knew that the elf, Legolas was behind him with his sword drawn, a rarity to be sure. The elves always preferred bow and arrow to blades. They charged down the spiralling causeway. Fear had begun to seep into their spirits once again as they charged straight into a column of vicious Uruk-hai.

Aragorn looked to the east as Gandalf had told him and saw a lone white rider against the rising sun. It painted the sky with swirling hues. "Gandalf." He murmured under his breath and saw that Théoden's gaze was directed in the same place. _Has the mission failed? Was Rohan beyond any help? _His thoughts ceased as a large band of riders came up behind the white wizard.

It was a sight to behold. One that he was sure he would never witness again in all the years that he lived. There must've been almost two thousand horses that charged behind Gandalf and Éomer. The Uruk-hai who were previously set on marching toward their victory at Helm's Deep had stopped. They shook their heads in protest as they were blinded by the radiance. Aragorn watched in amazement as the riders stormed the weakly formed Uruk-hai lines. They bore over them, striking down each and every creature there.

Pippin's grin tightened as the army of Ents arrived at Isengard. There were very few Uruk-hai remaining with Saruman. The Ents walked in due course toward the tower of Saruman which had been plagued with death and evil. They trod on the Uruk-hai, trampling them to the ground and swung them into large buildings. Pippin and Merry had took it upon themselves to assist the large trees. Merry aimed a stone and tossed it onto the Uruk-hai's head. Pippin threw another on which resembled his friend's blow. "A fine hit, young hobbits!" Treebeard told them. Two of the army approached the river flow which had been barricaded by Saruman. They delivered swift hits to the wood until it gave way. The white foamy river came crashing down at an enormous pace. It mercilessly wiped down and destroyed everything that came in its path. Pippin eyed Saruman who had tumbled head first out of his tower. He watched tragic dismay as his world of evil crashed down around him. "Pippin hold on!" Merry called as Treebeard rooted himself to the ground. The Ents followed his example and both hobbits watched as the water swallowed the dry ground beneath them.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other Notes: (1) I kept the Helm's Deep scene very nearly the same because frankly, there was nothing to change. I added tidbits of extra scenes, primarily Guinevere parts to keep the plot running. It was slow, I grant that, but like with all good things- it was necessary.

**A/N: ********So what did you think? The writing did seem weak at some points, particularly the Merry and Pippin segments but I didn't want to keep you all waiting. I might alter them a bit depending on my workload for the next month. **I've also noticed my views reduce significantly since Chapter 11. I just wanted to say that reviews mean a lot to me especially when I'm worried that my writing is lacking. Next chapter will make up for it, I promise. Until then, enjoy this and looking forward to hearing from you all! Satiné xx :)

Next time on _And So The Journey Begins_:

Faramir had been reluctant to leave Gondor for he knew that it might see such a fate. Boromir had returned Gondor or so the scouts had told him. There were too less men to hold any stand against the orcs. Faramir was reminded of his older brother as he looked upon the ruins where parts of flame had engulfed the stone.

...

_"Frodo, you know, you're right. You _are _just a hobbit but where it counts is here." Guinevere tapped his heart with a finger as they sat side by side, "Within everything there is a spirit. To endure, to fight evil. But many choose to run away from it. To hide from it. You, my dear friend, you chose to face it head on. It will be difficult- no one said it wouldn't; but, Frodo, I do believe you can do it. Because you don't run away from evil- you endure it."_


	15. Chapter 14: Sons of the Steward

**A/N: Hi! I'm back! And on a Saturday too! What's the occasion you ask - that really disappointing update I did yesterday. I know...I'm shamed too but I promise it will _not _happen again. On the bright side, it's wonderful to see _so _many of you still following _and _reviewing despite the horrific update. Now, as a reader, I know how sad when a story you enjoy is updated but there is nothing happening in the chapter. So, I'm here...again with the next update. Mind you, now I'm not so ahead with my chapters since I only have the next one written, there might be a slight delay in posting. Neverthless, here are my reviewer responses:**

**Bory68: Thanks for the feedback. One thing I am quite admittedly horrific at is chronologically placing my own points in a story. It's my curse as a writer. I have done my best but will endeavour to try harder. I'm sorry that last chapter was not as believable as I had hoped; maybe this chapter will have better results. Despite this, I am glad you a still reading.**

**Imamc: Your wish shall be granted! This is the new update and much more promising than the last. The reason I put in the last chapter was that I know, as a reader, that the Lord of the Rings trilogy is very intricate with its facts. I began reading without knowing what the first film- most people would find it weird but I also want people like me to be able to follow the story without reading the novels/watching the films. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Guest: I am cringing. God, I actually had so many people reading _that_. Um...all I can say is a hearty thank you to you and all my other readers for putting up with such a chapter. I really do hope that you are still reading this. The site didn't let your review become official but I found it on my emails and have immediately revised the first two chapters- something which I've been meaning to do for quite some time.**

**Now I'll let you read on.**

**_Disclaimer: All these works belong to Tolkien (and the films to New Line Cinema & Warner Brothers Studios)_**

Chapter 14: Sons of the Steward

Faramir had been reluctant to leave Gondor for he knew that it might see such a fate. Boromir had returned Gondor or so the scouts had told him. There were too less men to hold any stand against the orcs. Faramir was reminded of his older brother as he looked upon the ruins where parts of flame had engulfed the stone.

Their father had always differentiated between the two sons. Boromir could do no wrong and Faramir was never of any use. Boromir was always best at warfare whilst the younger brother never received any proper training because Denethor claimed he was too clumsy and irresponsible. He never held it against Boromir, it was not his brother's fault; but Faramir always wished that perhaps his father might one day see his worth. All he'd learnt of warfare, of the world was all from Boromir and the books which he'd hide with. The library was his safe haven as a child. Now that too had been taken from him as his responsibilities entailed him to be further from home than he wished.

The men re-shouldered their longbows and jogged heftily into the ruins. They had come by the east shore and already it seemed a stronghold for the orcs. They dodged stray arrows as they fired in return. The seventy warriors or so warriors beside Faramir took up hiding spots in amidst the rumble. They shot down the orcs effectively lessening their numbers before retreating in the direction of the western shore where Gondor's forces must be. They wandered to where the spearmen were braced and passed the Gondorian archers.

Faramir saw with great relief his brother donned in full Gondorian armour. His chainmail was wrought by the flames yet the white tree on his chest plate remained as pure as ever. He was harried as he locked his jaw in frustration. "Lord Boromir, their numbers are too great." Madril told him. The black haired, pale warrior stared down his commander who refused to meet his eye. "My lord! My lord! The eastern shore has been regained. The orcs have yet to arrive in full strength but we can regain possession of Osgiliath by nightfall.

Boromir stared him in disbelief "How is this possible?"

Faramir smiled as he showed himself from the shadows. Boromir noticed him and immediately a board smile light up his face. He embrace his brother tightly whilst holding him in place by the shoulders.

"How came you so quickly? I thought you were still in the south. You were not due for a fortnight."

Faramir ordered the men to continue fighting as his brother brought him to one of the strongholds of Gondor. "We encountered a band of Haradrim as we journeyed. The war is beginning brother."

Boromir nodded in agreement "Aye." Boromir retook hold of Faramir's shoulder ducking as a stray arrow sailed through the air over their heads.

"How long can we hold them?" Faramir asked him.

"Not long. The orcs are many. Osgiliath was overrun. Perhaps it will remain ours for the next night but Gondor will be forced to retreat. Where are you headed?"

"Minas Tirith." Faramir motioned to the two bound hobbits huddled behind him.

Boromir looked beyond his brother and his face turned one of horror. He regarded the two hobbits. One's crystal blue eyes stared at the ground despondently while the other regarded his brother with increasing contempt. "Frodo? Sam?" They had definitely not realised his presence because when he spoke, both heads snapped simultaneously in his direction.

"Boromir?" Frodo almost cried in joy.

"Faramir, release them immediately." He ordered his brother.

"But Boromir, they were found in the Forbidden Pool. Our father decreed…"

Boromir shook his head "Our father is blinded by his greed for Gondor as was I by the ring. Release them or I shall."

Faramir relented and the hobbits' captors ran a blade through their bonds, cutting them loose.

Frodo ran to Boromir, who now knelt, and hugged him tightly whilst Sam stared at the two in caution. "I am _so _sorry Frodo. More than you can ever know." The Gondorian almost whimpered as he said this.

Frodo acknowledged it with a drawn smile "All is well and forgotten. Tell me how did you survive the Uruk-hai?"

"I almost didn't." He grinned fondly as he recalled the others of the Fellowship. "Guinevere healed me."

Frodo's eyes welled with tears as they had a heart-warming twinkle about them "And how is she?"

"She was injured when we parted ways. I left for Gondor and she rode to Rohan. Last I heard from her, Rohan was endangered by Saruman. The capital was evacuated and they ventured toward Helm's Deep, the great fortress of Rohan."

Frodo nodded. "And the others? Aragorn? Pippin? Merry? Legolas? Gimli? How are they?"

"Aragorn was well as was Legolas and Gimli. But Merry and Pippin were taken by the Uruk-hai. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli set out to track them but I know not what became of their mission." In truth, Guinevere had relayed to him Gandalf's decision of leaving the two hobbits be. The wizard's cryptic words made Boromir question what he could have truly meant. Boromir could not meet Samwise's eyes as they glared at him accusingly; he knew that he had withheld the truth from them but for the sake of Frodo's wellbeing. The young hobbit would be terribly torn up if he'd heard this. He watched as Frodo frowned heavily but said nothing.

Boromir was about to continue but he was interrupted by Madril.

"My lord, you are needed at the front."

Faramir stood up instead "I will take my brother's place. He should remain with the other warriors." He nodded to his brother, whispering a soft apology to the hobbits before taking up his arms and leaving.

"We should leave Boromir. The sun is setting. The journey to Mordor will be long." Sam told him.

"I would rather you stay here Sam. Just for now. It is not safe with so many orcs patrolling the border, especially with this battle continuing." Boromir answered decidedly.

The misty night would not deter the Gondorian soldiers from their merriment as they laughed heartily over the fire. Small campfires had been set around the ruins and then men were huddled around the toasty flames. Their voices were raised in joviality as the company roared in laughter. They indulged themselves like they would never see the sun rise and Boromir let them be. For many, this would be their last night. Frodo and Sam had their own hobbit sized campfire in a corner where no one could easily spot them. Sam was preoccupied with roasting the sausages. There were only two who did not partake in the Gondorian's festivities and that was the sons of the steward. Boromir and Faramir stood together in a crumbled archway with their gazes fixed on the darkness. It was peaceful this night but it too would soon vanish as this peace would be plagued by the arrival of Sauron's remaining forces.

"What is to come this morn, brother?" Boromir turned to Faramir.

"Do you see it? The darkness? It will spread through these lands. Like…a burning fire in the woods."

"Minas Tirith will still stand." Faramir reasoned.

Boromir scoffed softly "Of course it will but what of its glory? What of its people? What is to become of the people who remain there? Will white walls be tarnished with streaks of blood?"

"You will succeed brother. As you always have." Boromir noted the wistful tone that his younger brother spoke with.

They both shared a glance. "Think nothing of father. He is too poisoned by his own ambitions."

Faramir sighed "Sometimes I wish…that we were never in the line of Stewards."

"Do not wish for things that can never change themselves. We are the sons of the Steward of Gondor and so we shall remain until the end of time, Faramir. All we can do is change the fate that is in our hands. At this moment, that is the fate of Minas Tirith."

"It's good to see you brother." Boromir smiled at this and clasped his shoulder.

Both brothers were intently watching the skyline as it crackled with white thunder, leering and taunting them for what was to come.

"Watch out!" A ranger called and Faramir and three other men moved out of the way as a boulder crashed into an overhead tower. As everyone had suspected, by morning, the orcs had arrived in full force and it seemed the army was not going to give way.

Frodo's eyes closed up and his breathing grew laboured. "Frodo, what is it?" Boromir asked the young hobbit but he said nothing. "Mr Frodo?" Sam called but Frodo ignored him too. "They're here. They have arrived."

Boromir looked up in time to see Faramir yell in fright "Nazgûl!" Boromir immediately thrust the hobbits into a concealed corner of the ruins and stared them straight in the eye. "Stay here. Keep out of sight." He told Sam sharply as Frodo was still delirious.

Sam's fingers gripped the edge of the stone and he peeked over the edge of the stone rubble. He spotted Faramir and Boromir who were assisting the last of the soldiers to hide themselves. Sam had failed to notice Frodo who had slipped past his sight. He walked deliriously through the men and up onto a stone elevation. Frodo stood alone. His fingers trembled, reaching for the silver chain that held the ring. They fumbled and ended up grasping Guinevere's necklace. His eyes stared mesmerized at the glistening stone on the end. He looked up and was met by a large charcoal-black dragon. It stared back at him with hate. Faramir watched on in horror as the tiny hobbit faced the Nazgûl's dragon. Sam sprinted up the stairs two at a time. He reached his friend just as Frodo's features were laced with terror. Boromir turned in time to see a swift arrow pierce the dragon. The Nazgûl shrieked as the dragon was thrown back and it limply flew away as Sam pushed Frodo from its clawing. The two hobbits tumbled down the stairs and a disorientated Frodo drew Sting from his belt, holding it to his attacker's throat. The words that his attacker spoke were muffled and Frodo would not made them out but as the gaze cleared he tore away seeing Sam with a tear sliding down his cheek. He stumbled over his own two feet with Sting slipping from his fingers and clattering to the ground. "I can't do this Sam." His words were filled with despair and it seemed his friend shared his frustration.

"I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are." Sam scrambled up and positioned himself in the archway staring off into the distance. "It's like in the great stories Mr Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were."

"_Frodo, you know, you're right. You _are _just a hobbit but where it counts is here." Guinevere tapped his heart with a finger as they sat side by side, "Within everything there is a spirit. To endure, to fight evil. But many choose to run away from it. To hide from it. You, my dear friend, you chose to face it head on. It will be difficult- no one said it wouldn't; but, Frodo, I do believe you can do it. Because you don't run away from evil- you endure it."_

"And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy?"

The riders stormed the Uruk-hai slaughtering those that remained with precision. "Victory! We have victory!" Théoden yelled bracing his sword as the remaining Rohirrim ran to where Éomer's men were assembled. Aragorn watched them with an undiscernible expression. There was momentary disbelief, then his lips parted with a wistful smile. His body was covered in bruises and cuts, and he was pained more than ever. Yet somehow this relief that he felt, this hope that he saw; it was enough to soothe his hurts.

"But in the end, it's only a passing thing...this shadow."

Aragorn's feet were sore as he heavily went up the steps of the main hall. However, his pain did not matter as he felt soothed the moment he set eyes on _her_. There she stood with a radiant smile. Her blood-encrusted armour had been removed in the short time that it had taken the men to return to the fortress and she now donned a clean dress. She stepped up to him taking his face into her hands. Guinevere brushed his cheeks softly with her thumbs as tears gathered in her eyes. Aragorn willingly took her into his arms and she buried her face in his neck, knowing that he was safe.

Legolas stood beside Gimli watching their reunion with grins pasted on their faces. The elf placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder and Gimli eyed him with fake distaste, his own hands still braced atop his axe. Legolas raised an eyebrow in amusement and Gimli chuckled turning his attention back to the two lovers. "Aye. Perhaps there is some hope in the world for elves regaining their senses." Legolas watched Guinevere as a small smirk played on her lips. "Seventy-two." He tightened the string of his bow looking down to the dwarf smugly. Gimli nodded absentmindedly "Not bad." He started, "However, I myself have a pretty little seventy-_three_." Legolas frowned "That one did not count, he was dead." Gimli shook his head "No. He wasn't. He was slashed in the back and still moving, that does _not _constitute for dead." He argued. Éowyn watched the two resume their arguing and her gaze turned to Guinevere who returned her acknowledging smile.

"Even darkness must pass. A new day will come." Sam said softly.

Pippin looked around him at Isengard which was now flooded. All of Saruman's conjuring at been for naught as it was all swept away in the rapid-flowing river. Frothy waters swallowed up the remaining darkness. Pippin's grip on Treebeard's branches tightened and he looked down from his perch to Merry who wore the same stunned expression that Pippin had moments ago. Every fire that once burned in Isengard was extinguished for good.

Saruman watched as his empire crumbled before his eyes. Every elf he had mutilated and tortured, every Uruk-hai which he'd created, every hope at gaining the power in the world. It was all gone. He recollected Gandalf's words "There is only one lord of the ring." He gripped the railing tighter until his already pale knuckles turned white. His attempt at proving to be stronger…more worthy of his position as head of the Istari had failed. Instead, he'd brought sorrow and devastation to himself. Saruman turned away when he could no longer bear the burden of his fallen 'kingdom'. He threw the doors of the balcony shut and yelled. There was no one could hear his woes of sorrow and there was no one who cared.

"And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why." Sam paused considering his next words "But…I think, Mr Frodo, I _do _understand. I know now. Folk in those stories… had lots of chances of turning back only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding onto something."

Frodo's eyes shone with tears as he stared at his feet remorsefully. "What are we holding onto Sam?"

Sam gritted his teeth as he pulled Frodo up "That there's some good in this world Mr Frodo. And it's worth fighting for."

Faramir stared at the two young hobbits. No matter how small or big a person was, there was always something to be learnt from them. The question only remained whether you chose to learn from them or not. Faramir saw the truth in Sam's words. He was always second-best, Boromir always succeeded him. Whilst Faramir never harboured anything against his brother, the pain and neglect still remained. There were days when he wished that he'd never been the son of the Denethor. These days grew more frequent over time yet Sam's words had shown him light. Faramir may perhaps remain in his brother's shadow forever but who but Denethor could change that? Faramir's duty was no longer to his father…it belonged to his country. To his people. To those who fight evil, not those who embrace it. Denethor may be his father but his father had embraced darkness. That was no longer his father who sat upon the throne of Gondor, it was a foe of Gondor. Faramir had to fight. He had to fight for good. Because it was worth fighting for.

He approached the hobbits who immediately grew cautious. "I think at last, we understand one another Frodo Baggins." He told them softly and for the first time, since he'd encountered the hobbits, he saw Frodo smile. It was a small tilt of the lips but it was enough for Faramir. His eyes held gratitude and thankfulness.

"We cannot get out of the city." Frodo told him quietly. "There is a path. Come with me." Faramir told them hastily. He ushered the two hobbits to walk faster as he led them past the ever-battling soldiers as their screams of terror and revenge simultaneously rung through the sealed doors. Frodo had stalled for a moment bidding Boromir a swift farewell. The Gondorian was occupied with duelling orcs but found a moment to bid them a safe journey to Mordor.

"Faramir is leading us to a path that will take us through the city safely."

Boromir nodded in understanding with a small smile "Yes, he is right in doing so." He pulled Frodo aside behind a stone pillar to conceal them from impending threats "Stay safe Frodo. May you lead a safe journey to Mount Doom." Frodo gave him a huge embrace with all the relief and emotion he could muster at that present moment and then scurried off behind Faramir. Sam raised a hand in farewell with a slight hint of a smile. Boromir returned it before turning his gaze skyward and returning to battle.

The man and two hobbits waded through deep waters through a maze of corridors. The charred stone and ruins of Osgiliath loomed over them ominously. The men around them cradled wounds as they swung their swords or called for help. These sounds resonated over the clashing of swords.

"This is the old sewer. Runs right under the river through to the edge of the city. You may seek the cover of the woods there."

Sam stared straight at Faramir "Captain Faramir…you've shown your quality sir."

Faramir replanted his feet in the stones and stared with curiosity at the hobbit. "The very highest." Sam continued bashfully.

The captain grinned wholeheartedly "The Shire must truly be a great realm, Master Gamgee…where gardeners are held in high honour."

Sam sheepishly stared at his feet.

"From the woods… what path will you take?"

Frodo wracked his brain until he recalled Gollum's words. "Gollum had told us there was a path. Near Minas Morgul that climbs up into the mountains."  
Faramir ignored that he'd been lied to about their party only containing the two hobbits and turned his sights to what had been said in the latter. He frowned heavily "Círth Ungol?" He murmured to himself.

Sam nodded earnestly "That was the name. That was what Gollum was blabbering on about before you caught us. That was it."

Faramir swung around threateningly to face Frodo "You cannot go that way Frodo. They say a dark terror dwells in the passes above Minas Morgul."

"There is no other way Faramir." Frodo told him in confusion, "My road leads to Mordor. I know not of another path there."

"There is one. There is one that I know of. The terrain is treacherous but if you are careful, you will make your way to Mordor." Faramir told them "I have never seen it but I have read of it in maps. A path between Morannon and Minas Morgul. It is a maze of caves that lie between Gondor and Mordor. I know not of what may lie there but if I read correctly, there are small riddles that were etched into the stone by a band of Gondor soldiers in the Second Age. If you solve these riddles correctly, then the path should lead you straight to Mordor."

Frodo took in this and nodded "I shall try to find it. Thank you."  
Faramir gave them a small smile and urged them to leave in haste "Go, Frodo. Go with the goodwill of all men."

He watched over the two hobbits as they were swallowed into the darkness of the sewers before his jaw tightened. "May death find you quickly if you bring them to harm." He murmured under his breath, cursing Gollum.

Faramir turned only to find that Boromir stood behind him. "I am proud to call you my brother, Faramir." They clasped each other's shoulders while their other hands held drawn swords.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other Notes: (1) None of this is in chronological order...at all. It does not follow a particular time frame; I used a writer's liberty here. (2) Second thing I threw a wrench in is Frodo and Sam's journey. They will no longer face Shelob. There are two reasons for that: one- I would not be able to write any part of that without getting nightmares for the next week, yes I'm terrified of...those creatures. (shudder) and two- I wanted to try something a little different. Please do not think that I've taken away Frodo and Sam's 'glory' for a lack of a better word. I wanted to portray more for the intellectual side to their side; loosely like Bilbo in The Hobbit. Also, it gives me an opportunity to study another thing that I enjoy greatly- puzzles/riddles. They however won't have a completely safe, bloodless passage through there though but that is left to be seen. (3) I know almost naught about the Boromir and Faramir side of the Lord of the Rings. There may be facts that are out to place but remember: this character study may be flawed since I have only known these characters for two-three months.

**A/N: This chapter was about portraying everyone's journey to this point. It was meant to be inspirational to everyone read it and all the characters in the story. I have had a dark period in my life but it always gets better. I hope that I did briefly touch this. _Sons of the Steward _was some time to add in brotherly love which I found lacking in the film- not the extended version. I have taken an extended scene at the end but it is quite a favourite here. Not all my decisions in this story will be agreed with but I hope you still find in your heart to continue reading for a writer who has passion and hope but lacks the skilful talent of writers. Satiné**


	16. Chapter 15: Tears for Redemption

**A/N: Hi lovely readers! So great to hear from you all and I was absolutely stunned at receiving 7 reviews for my last update. It really touched my heart- so thank you. Now, I will launch straight into this chapter (following reviewer responses) and all necessary justifications will be noted in the 'Other Notes' section as per usual.**

**Whrrtrudy: Yay for no Shelob! So glad you're enjoying this and thank you for the review.**

**Alexma: Lovely to get your review. Update came as soon as possible and half an author's satisfaction is getting such wonderful responses from their reader. As for Haldir's elves...well, I might bring them into a later fight depending on how later chapters follow through. I would love to hear your thoughts on this!**

**Guest: Thank you. Hope you like this chapter!**

**Mariamah: Aw...so sweet! Thanks for the compliment, I'm glad I'm bringing some different ideas into this story. Don't get me wrong, I love the original but it's always fun to experiment and play around with different ideas.**

**LadyVanya: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so overwhelmed with all response that this story has garnered. I'm also very happy that you agree with me on Shelob. It's very nice to have someone reading this who actually knows so much about Tolkien's works and is prepared to share some thoughts on it. I am amazed at your tidbit of information but it has come in handy. :) Oh, and I fixed up the grammatical errors that you mentioned. Thanks.**

**Imamc: I wanted to try my hand at writing different sorts of character relationships (sibling, romance, friendship etc.) in my story. The Boromir/Faramir chapter was my take on them. So happy you liked it.**

**Borys68: I appreciate your thoughts but for me, this is also a learning experience. I will be more careful in the way I word things because when I wrote "...know almost naught..." - it was not literal in meaning. For me, it's about researching their character {seeing how accurately I find information}, writing about them {putting thoughts on paper} and then seeing if I did it right. If there is something drastically wrong, I don't doubt that my reviewers will let me know and I will make an effort to fix it but I prefer not to limit myself just because I don't know much about a character. This story, regardless of the character's history, is my take on how they are and why they act the way they do. However, your comment is noted. Thank you!**

**So here it is Chapter 15...**

Chapter 15: Tears for Redemption

Belan walked steadily with his mistress eased on his back. Guinevere brushed aside another tangled vine as it obstructed her view. Wind hit her face causing her to look away and push away a strand of hair that flew into her face. Her back ached tremendously and her hands were stiffened from holding Belan's reins; so stiff that she ended up letting go of his reins and allowed him determine the pace of their journey.

The party of seven had left from Helm's Deep to Isengard immediately as the war finished. Éowyn had been particularly displeased when Théoden had charged her with returning the people to Edoras but nevertheless agreed. Adrahil had hinted at his discomfort in remaining whilst war was being waged on Osgiliath and so Guinevere had allowed him to leave with the remaining Gondorian warriors. She treated with a hearty meal and clean, warm clothes for their journey ahead. Théoden and Éomer had then left with Guinevere and the four of the Fellowship.

There once loomed a great evil in the woods. The roots were large and tangled and wisps of willows were hanging from the tree branches. A dimmed light shone at the end of their path. The bark seemed to bear axe wounds and those that were closer to the great tower were partially darkened with soot.

The seven riders rode in a silent file. Gandalf led them with Théoden and Aragorn in his wake. Guinevere rode behind Aragorn with Belan tailing Brego. Guinevere could tell that Legolas and Gimli's gibbering had ceased behind her on Arod and she spared them a quick glance. Éomer who rode last gave her a quick smirk. It was soon wiped off his face as they delved deeper into the forestry. She returned it before righting herself in the saddle.

They reached the edge of Isengard where the ruins of the circular wall of rock stood. It had been breached at parts and water had flooded the grounds. Behind lay the tall snow-capped peaks of the Misty Mountains. Guinevere had no doubt that previous to the evil that grew here, Isengard would not doubt have been a spectacular sight. Guinevere stared at the tower of Orthanc with great wonder. It was high as the heavens themselves constructed of mighty stone pillars carved to resemble sharp-ended spikes. It was two grand towers that housed Saruman and between was mounted as a flight of steepened stairs fashioned of the same black stone that made the entirety of the tower. On a first appearance, it appeared that the windows were few though upon closer inspection Guinevere realised that the thin slivers in the climbing walls were in fact tall windows.

Soon, it was not the citadel of Saruman that held her attention; it was the sight of a hobbit before her. Merry were strewn lazily over the edge of some rubble with a mug of ale in hand and his wooden pipe filled to the brim. Beside him was a small silver plate stacked with sandwiches and meat of all sorts.

"Welcome my lords…" He raised his tarnished mug in a salute before eyeing the lone female rider amongst the party at Merry's words. "…And my revered lady…" He exaggeratedly bowed in her direction causing to Guinevere chuckle with rosy cheeks "…to Isengard!" He said the name with a flourish and sweep of his hands.

"You…you rascal!" Gimli scowled "You led us not a merry hunt only for us to find you…feasting a-and…smoking!" The dwarf was at a loss for words.

"Ah Master Dwarf…as you see, this is a field of victory which I sit on. It is only right that I enjoy a few well-earned comforts." Merry told him pointedly, munching merrily on the sandwich, placed on a plate by his feet.

"Is that salted pork?" Gimli had a dreamy expression as he eyed Merry's sandwich.

Guinevere chuckled "And tell me, oh so great Master Meriadoc, where is your brother in mischief?"

"I know not of whom you speak my lady." Merry almost slurred his words.

"I speak of a certain Peregrine Took." She narrowed her eyes at the hobbit caused him to almost fall off his perch, which was regarded by laughter "I know he is here somewhere."

"Hobbits." Gandalf rolled his eyes- an action which reminded her greatly of the Gandalf before he fell in Moria.

The horses waded heavily through the lake which had formed around the tower of Orthanc. Merry was happily seated behind Éomer on his stallion. They were met by Treebeard who greeted them profusely though his words were quite slow and frequent in pauses. Gandalf inquired after the white wizard who was trapped in his tower and Treebeard replied that he was safely locked away. Gandalf nodded and decided that the eventual confrontation with the delusional wizard must be addressed sooner rather than later.

"What is a wizard without his staff, Legolas?" Gandalf told the elf but still Legolas would not relent.

"I feel it would be better to have one of us by your side Gandalf. Saruman is cunning, there is no saying what he will plan."

"Legolas is right Gandalf. Let us come with you to face Saruman."

Gandalf grumbled under his breath "I will let _one _of you join me in the tower. No more."

Legolas turned to Aragorn but his friend simply smiled "You go. I believe that Guinevere requires my assistance elsewhere. There is not much Saruman can do."

The elf dismounted his horse leaving Théoden, Éomer and Gimli to converse with Merry and Treebeard. Éomer was rather fascinated with the small hobbit on his horse though he knew that Merry's spirit would bring him great strife. Such a small creature, however strong-hearted he may be, could not be likely to survive in battle. So Théoden and Gimli remained to speak with the old Ent who towered over them.

Aragorn and Guinevere had left Brego and Belan to keep each other company whilst they went on a search to find Pippin. There were large stepping stones that lead to various places around the fortress. Guinevere felt like a little girl once again as she stepped over the stones on her toes. She'd raised her hands up delicately as she tread deftly over the stones. Aragorn, who was much less 'fun' as she liked to point out, kept a gentle hold on her hands. He was right at her heels with gentle yet firm grip on her proffered hands. Much to Guinevere's dismay, she fumbled almost falling head first into the water had it not been for Aragorn's hold. She stared back at him with wide eyes and an innocent smile whilst he shook his head urging her forward.

"Where could he be?" She pondered out loud. Her gaze was drawn to a ripe red apple that floated in the water. She leant down and smiled to herself as Aragorn's hands immediately went to support her waist. She picked it up and held it to him triumphantly with a composed and assured smile. Aragorn grinned openly in response to her discovery and both followed the trail of food that obviously led to a pantry. She saw some smoke arise from the arched entrance of the room and made to rush inside. However, Aragorn stopped her. He put a finger to his lips and pushed her forward to smell it. She frowned as did as he silently requested. Her lips parted and her head cocked to the side as her eyes stared the smoke with a new prospect. Both tread a few more stones arriving at the threshold of the pantry. Guinevere's hands were poised on her hips and Aragorn stood partially beside her with his folded over his chest.

"It's a quality establishment, Merry. I heard the staff are very good"

Pippin absentmindedly continued with his tasks bustling about the small-sized pantry with his back to the threshold. His eyes were occupied by feasting on the sight of so much fresh food. Fresh produce, grains, beverages…it was all present and in hefty quantity. There were barrels stacked in an orderly fashion against the wood benches and shelves with yellowed labels and markings of black ink spelling out words. He enthusiastically scoured the shelves pulling apart the abundance of food before him. Pippin tasted the cold ham and savoured its meaty flavour in delight before turning his attention to the neglected mushrooms stacked in a crate on the floor. He took a puff off his steaming pipe as he stood atop a stool, inspecting the contents of a medium-sized barrel above.

"Have you tasted the salted pork? It is delicious. And what about the mushroom? Sort of reminds me of the mushrooms we used to borrow from Farmer Maggot. I still don't get why he was so angry; it was only the mushrooms…"

"Is that so?" Pippin froze as Guinevere smirked.

Gandalf strode into the throne room with surety and his staff firmly in his grip. Legolas stood in awe at the intimidating magnificence of it. The rugged intricacy of the throne pedestal before him was overwhelming. Abstract ripples and illusions were concealed within the folds of metal which remained threatening to all who stood in its presence. Three doors, beyond the one they stood in presently, were placed at the 'corner' of the room. Two were barred shut with the doors locked heavily. They resembled the cages of jailors and dungeons with thin, sturdy metal bars. The only source of sunlight was that which came from the heavens above which led to the uppermost level of Saruman's tower. The floor was made of sleekly polished marble with little to disturb its perfection. In the centre of the room stood a font-like pedestal. As Gandalf eyed it, Legolas could tell that there was something wrong but the wizard did not disclose his thoughts.

Burning incandescently on either side of Saruman's throne were two tall candle fixtures. An ever-burning candle wick was positioned in the intricate globe which stood upon the sharpened candle-stand. Legolas squinted slightly and his eyes grew wide realising that the globe was a metal dragon. He reeled back as his guard rose once again.

"Ah Gandalf…you have at last arrived. It is quite unfortunate that you arrive at a saddened hour." Both the wizard and elf promptly turned on their heel to face the once respectful white wizard.

Gandalf did not remember seeing Saruman in such a state. The wizard still donned his white robes that swathed his tall being, though the white material was no longer unsullied. The embroidery which once glimmered with pride were now clouded with shame. His flattened hair had grown grey and dull whilst his countenance was even more pitiable. His eyes held dark secrets that would never be spoken of yet the woe in his orbs was evident. His skin had grown slightly wrinkled and the tone ashen. There was no more glory in Saruman's being; only the shame, despair and evil had endured. However, it was the wizard's tone that caused Gandalf the greatest fear for it had not lost its superciliousness. Here stood the staff-less wizard donning white garb sullied with shame in a conquered fortress yet he had not yet learnt the lesson humility despite his defeat.

"Saruman…" The greeting was icy and withdrawn. Gandalf's expression hardened as he watched Saruman approach him.

The wizard came to a standstill a few feet away from where Gandalf stood in the doors with the elf at his heels. "I see you have brought another with you." Saruman's gaze shifted to Legolas.

"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil. Prince of the Mirkwood realm."

Saruman chuckled mirthlessly "Legolas, yes. Your father would speak often of you."

Legolas gritted his teeth choosing to say nothing. He stared the wizard straight in the eye with his blue orbs blazing with icy rage. He contained his anger and curled his fingers into a fist. The dishonoured wizard was attempting to rub salt into wounds that went bone deep. His father was a difficult subject for him and to hear his direct disapproval from the words of another...it bore a greater wound than even he could consider.

Saruman returned his attentions to Gandalf once again. "I heartily welcome you to the Orthanc, my friend. It has been months since I have seen you last. Do you fare well?"

"I would say I'm quite well. Though, I cannot extend that courtesy to you."

"Of course not. I am the staff-less wizard of a defeated fortress. What more can I say?"

Gandalf stared at Saruman "Why?" It was a simple word but the effect of it was great.

"I truly do not know. Sauron poisoned my mind through the Palantír. I had no choice but to abide by his wishes." Saruman frowned heavily as he inspected the ground with great interest, refusing to look up at his guests.

"You were a strong wizard Saruman. You could have resisted him."

His back was hunched as his eyes lifted to meet his staff which remained nothing but a stick against his throne. "I tried but I failed."

"Perhaps your repentance will bless you with a better fortune that you have endured." Gandalf grimly told him.

"I prefer to think so." Saruman answered mysteriously.

It was starting puzzle Gandalf. He could not distinguish what veiled agenda could remain for the white wizard. Did Saruman not see that all was lost? One moment, Gandalf would've believed his sorrow yet the next, Saruman would prove to be as ruthless and scheming as he once was.

Gandalf walked to the throne and took up Saruman's staff. He did not realise his mistake until he saw _it _in Saruman's eyes. The very same glint that he'd witnessed when the white wizard had taken him captive after revealing the fate of the One Ring. Gandalf was thrown back painfully into the wall. The wizard scrambled along the floor with blood teeming from a wound in his forehead.

"Yes Gandalf. A powerful wizard indeed." Saruman chuckled, "Gandalf _the white_." He taunted as his claw-like fingers contorted in an attempt to retrieve the staff which was in Gandalf's grasp. "I was promised the world. While your corpse is set alight or fed to my Uruk-hai, I will bear witness to your demise!" His eyes sparkled with madness. He laughed hysterically as it send shivers down Legolas' spine as the elf mounted an arrow on his bow.

Gandalf raised a hand to stop Legolas from firing and Legolas' expression grew incredulous. What more could Saruman have to say that Gandalf needed to hear?

"Evil never triumphs over good, Saruman." Gandalf grinded out between his teeth. "Sauron will be destroyed and all his followers will turn to dust. There is no place in this world for darkness. You are wise Saruman. You know this."

"You know nothing! I was always stronger, always better." Saruman's wand was beginning to slip from Gandalf's finger. The wizard gripped it tighter ignoring the moisture that was building. "From the start, it was always you. Lady Galadriel always favoured you over me. Why!? _I _am head of the Istari, _I _hold every hint of knowledge in Middle Earth, _I _am the one who can triumph over evil if I desire it. What is it that you have done; that you are; that caused people who bow down to you?"

"There is no greater evil than succumbing to what I do not believe. My fate will be shared with that of Middle Earth. I do not forsake my ideals because I foresee death." Gandalf ignored Saruman's violent plight instead choosing to clutch the staff closer. Saruman very slowly pried the staff until it finally flew into his hands.

Legolas disregarded any order that Gandalf had ever given him and fired an arrow into his lung. Saruman had evidently underestimated his presence and he watched as the wizard sunk to his knees. He lay sprawled over the black marble floor with wine red staining his robes. Legolas ran to Gandalf who was struggling to stand upright. Gandalf made his way shakily to Saruman. The snow-white globe of Saruman's staff had been thrown to the ground and was shattered to pieces beside the wizard. What struck Gandalf the most was his face. A single tear ran down Saruman's cheek; it was one of true remorse. The Saruman that Gandalf remembered had emerged once again through the darkness. The tear left a black-red streak down his pallor skin. Blood.

A tear of blood.

"All I ever desired was to become better than you. Today, I realise…" Saruman coughed up blood, "t-there was only one reason why I was never able to succeed you…b-because I was n-never better than you. You _are _s-stronger than I ever was. My cowardice, my shame…I see it clear as day…"

Gandalf cleared his throat quietly letting Saruman speak his last words. Saruman's eyes had not yet met Gandalf's; they stared high at the ceiling.

"I no longer fear death Gandalf…the White. Death was never mine to fear. Instead, I should have feared myself. My obsession… And now comes the end of my life with all but one regret…I was given a few m-moments o-of r-repentance. A single moment to right my wrong…and for that I…thank…you." His head inched to the left once to stare in Legolas' eyes in gratitude and at Gandalf. His gaze remained and Gandalf watched as the last of his life slipped away.

And so passed Saruman the White.

Éomer's lips twitched in amusement as Guinevere brought a new arrival to their ever-increasing party. She had Pippin by the ear, dragging him behind her. "Ow! A-a-ah!" The hobbit stuttered. She knelt at his height and stared at him demandingly. Pippin have her a smile before tackling her into a big hug. Her annoyance forgotten, Guinevere took hold of the hobbit laughingly.

"Has Gandalf not arrived yet?" Aragorn asked as he looked around.

Théoden shook his head "No."

"He's taking quite a long time there, Aragorn. I think I'll go and check on him." Guinevere commented making herself stand upright. Both she and Aragorn made their ways to the tower and they ran every one of the infinite stairs with Aragorn in front and Guinevere right behind him.

Her companion halted in his tracks as he arrived at the throne room. "What is it?" Guinevere tried to look past him but Aragorn merely moved aside letting her some room. Guinevere let out a strangled cry and turned away from the macabre sight before her. She seen many gruelling sights during the Battle of Hornburg yet despite this, the sight of Saruman sprawled over the ground with his white robes reddened and a single crude streak of blood across his cheek was the end of her wits. His lifeless eyes frightened her. She hugged herself even tighter whimpering. But it was indeed a crude sight; she could not be faulted for it.

"Gandalf?" Aragorn's rumbling voice caused her to turn around and she put a hand up to shield her vision from Saruman. She trembled in shock as the wizard's wound still bled. She knelt down to him height, promptly attempting to ignore Saruman's corpse and retrieved her handkerchief. She pressed it against the wound, assisting him in standing upright.

"What happened?"

"Saruman tried to regain control of his staff."

"We did tell you Gandalf. That wizard was pure evil, nothing less." Guinevere shuddered.

"And I do not doubt you for it but Saruman was once a good wizard. Every man should be given the chance to redeem themselves and rid themselves of the sins and crimes that they have committed. No matter how heinous."

Guinevere nodded "Can we go? Please?" She led Gandalf with Aragorn and Legolas murmuring quietly behind them. The handkerchief was still pressed on the gash on Gandalf's forehead. He removed the blood-stained cotton before she could protest and to her utter amazement, the entire wound mended itself. Even her handkerchief had returned to its original white.

"Saruman's hold over Middle Earth has come to an end." Was all the wizard uttered.

Despite Saruman's death and the fall of Isengard, there was still something that troubled Gandalf. The Palantír had vanished from its place in the throne room. It was the first thing that Gandalf had noticed when they had entered the room. Legolas had sensed there was something that lingered on his mind but said nothing of it, for which the wizard was grateful. As he approached the others of his party, Gandalf noticed Pippin staring avidly at something underneath the water. "Pippin!" Aragorn called from his horse but the hobbit paid him no heed. Gandalf's eyes widened as he realised what Pippin held in his hand: the Palantír. The black glassy seeing stone was cradled in Pippin's hands as he stared at them in fascination. How they had arrived there was at present a mystery but there were more pressing matters at hand. "I'll take that Peregrine." He took possession of the Palantír wrapping them into a bundle with the hem of his cloak. He met Pippin's suspicious gaze but did not speak of it.

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other Notes: (1) Yes, I changed Saruman's death. Here is why: when I found the deleted scene of Saruman's death (I have not read that part in the novel), I found it lacking something. I wasn't sure what it was but somehow, it didn't feel right for him to die like that. Beneath that need to grow powerful, he has a heart and I wanted to grant him the redemption without taking away the weight of his doings. _Why did I place it inside the tower? _For the simple reason, that in the first film the showdown between Gandalf and Saruman which results in Gandalf being taken captive was set there. This was the first glance of Saruman and evil in the film and personally, it felt right to end it there. (2) And the Pippin part? Did you enjoy that? When I found Pippin and Merry raiding the pantry, I instantly knew that it had to be in this story. Some calm before the storm. (3) The Palantir in the water has a little more of the story which I have not included but say the word and I'll see what I can do. (4) Saruman's hold over his staff- I wanted to give Saruman a last stand to show how deep his revenge goes. It is not about having supernatural powers; it is about Saruman's extensive knowledge and deep desire to conquer Middle Earth. I realise that I haven't given a full explanation but I am really tired so frankly, I can't think. I may change this later. (5) And breaklines: I personally don't like to use them. They break up the story more than I prefer. I understand if it is too hard to follow then by all means let me know and I'll see if I can change it up a little.

**I must say I am quite satisfied with the manner of Saruman's death. It felt...right. However, I have put off reading the novels for far too long so I'll have to find time to pick up the books too. I am pre-warning you, because of my dual chapter update last week I've caught up with the chapters I'm currently writing. This was the last one that was finished. Hence Chapter 16 may take some time in arriving but please bear with me. It won't be too long of a wait. Competition training is consuming all my writing time so I have only skimmed this chapter. _Please _excuse any spelling/grammar errors. Sorry for the long author's note, I am so drained as I write this. I sincerely hope you liked this chapter. Please leave reviews! Satiné xx**


	17. Chapter 16: Festivities in the Night

**Hi all! Wonderful to hear from you again and a huge thank you to my reviewers this time round. I just want to warn you now that there might not be an update next Friday but I'll do my best. Of course, reviews obviously help! PS: If you PM me, I won't be able to reply until a few days time because I'm interstate for a competition. I'll get through the review replies and then we'll get started!**

**Imamc: Thank you. I'm glad that you like the alternate way I wrote Saruman's death.**

**Borys68: That's a really good idea, maybe I'll find some way to incorporate it in my later chapters! Thanks!**

**LadyVanya: Your review was amazingly helpful. Firstly, I'm happy that liked my last chapter. Also, I'm quite surprised that I'm following the book unconsciously more than the film...perhaps I _am _doing justice to the characters- quite a comforting thought. I have taken on your advice in writing additional information about the Palantir in the next chapter. Mind you, there might be some flashback moments going on.**

Chapter 16: Festivities in the Night

Guinevere's lips twitched on relief as Belan made his way through the gate of Edoras. They had ridden for the good half of the morning and had now arrived in safety to the capital with the two hobbits. She felt Pippin's presence behind her in the saddle. Of all the hobbits, perhaps it was Frodo that was loved her the most; but a close second was Pippin. She'd been devastated when the Fellowship had first been separated. Boromir was half dead, Frodo and Sam had escaped and where now headed toward Mordor- the one place that any sane being would be running...or riding away from; and Pippin, and Merry, were in the clutches of Saruman's vile creatures while she lay writhing in pain and unable to do anything. She'd been so very delighted to find Pippin and Merry safe though she'd tried to conceal it. Feeling the weight of the tiny hobbit behind her gave Guinevere a great comfort.

She felt a hand brush hers and looked up to meet Aragorn's gaze who rode beside her on Brego. She awarded his efforts with a sweet smile as he rode before her upon entering Edoras. She spotted Éowyn who stood on the parapet in front of the Golden Hall. She waved in greeting and Éowyn returned it just as enthusiastically.

The party made their way up the staircase. Éomer was elated to finally arrive home. The last month or so of exile had been almost unbearable as his thoughts were plagued with nothing but the welfare of his sister, uncle and his country. All that prepared him for the blow was a blur of white as he stumbled back with his sister hugging him almost violently. Despite her petite size, Éowyn had the grip of a dragon's claws. She squeezed him and Éomer returned her embrace. "I see that I have been missed, my dear sister." He smiled but she didn't respond. She only hugged him tighter shaking her head as a shuddering sob of delight and relief escaped her. Éomer pulled her back to see tears brimming in her eyes. He wiped them gently "Now, no more of that. I am home and all is as well as it once was." She gave him a watery smile before greeting her uncle in a similar manner.

Éomer watched their reunion contently before his gaze shifted to the other lady present. As it turned out, Lady Guinevere was not of these parts. Her voice was melodic to be sure but it held some foreign accent to it. Éomer was not well versed in the elven, dwarfish and other realms of Middle Earth and so could not place her as easily as one like Aragorn may. Had she but a radiant, glowing aura about her, Éomer would have mistaken her for an elleth. He had seen many women from both Gondor and Rohan and Lady Guinevere did not fit the identity of either.

Lady Guinevere had been kneeling down throughout Éowyn's greetings, embracing the two little hobbits that had now joined their journey. It seemed she was very close to the halflings, particularly the younger. Lady Guinevere greeted Éowyn amicably and while Éowyn had not said much on the topic of their acquaintance, Éomer knew that their friendship had begun on the edge of a sword.

He looked around him at the landscape. It was so familiar and he was indeed thankful that he'd come home. Its tranquillity held a special place in his heart. He had grown up within the walls of Rohan yet Edoras was what gave him the ultimate comfort.

Éomer had been astonished to say in the least when he'd been approached by a white wizard. The only white wizard that he'd known of was Saruman the White, indeed something which he did not want to recall. When Gandalf had arrived, he'd been adamant that the king would be in need of his assistance at Helm's Deep. He'd been relayed all of that which had occurred during his absence. There was very little to be said and only the sharp clicks of hooves punctuated Gandalf the White's words. The sight that had unfolded at Helm's Deep was one which he wished he could forget. The walls had been broken through in a most horrific manner and all between the damp ground and trodden tufts of moss were ugly Uruk-hai standing fast. The banners of Rohan had been replaced with the white hand of Saruman which fuelled Éomer's wrath. He spotted a small quantity of men riding out and upon closer inspection realised that it was his uncle that led them into battle.

He had brought with him reinforcements in the shape of a thousand riders. The Rohirrim charged down the hillside and stormed the weakly built lines of the Uruk-hai. The horses leapt above the Uruk-hai rearing sharply as the Rohirrim's glistening blades were marred with black Uruk-hai blood. As the dark forces of Saruman retreated, Éomer had been met by his worn uncle. They had a hearty embrace before Théoden King had introduced him to Lord Aragorn. Éomer immediately recognised the name having heard it far and wide from the lips of many. The heir to the throne of Gondor. It appeared that miracles would not cease this day for he was also met by Lord Adrahil, the leader of a Gondorian battalion who had been sent by the son of Gondor's steward, Boromir.

Éomer had not been given the opportunity to meet his sister has he had been tied down by the responsibilities of assisting with the fallen and aiding the wounded. And so this was the first meeting of brother and sister since he'd been banished from Edoras.

He pushed aside these contemplations and made to follow the others who were now seeking to enter the Golden Hall. The party of the Fellowship were now retreating to their designated chambers, however the oldest of the halflings- Merry, was held in deep conversation with Éowyn. Éomer ran a hand through his hair with a smile and made to follow his uncle over the threshold which he thought he'd never see again.

Guinevere was at last relieved to be cleansed and refreshed. She once again changed her attire into a forest green gown, a gift from Éowyn, for which he was greatly indebted. She and the shieldmaiden had somewhat reconciled their differences in the matter of war and were now quite cordial to each other.

Guinevere was startled awake from a sharp rapping of knuckles on the door. She scrambled to sit up as she was met by Éowyn who peeked in through a crack in the door.

"Are you well?" She asked softly. Guinevere greeted her warmly as she ran a hand through her messy hair.

"I just fell asleep. It seems that sleep has finally caught up to me."

Éowyn nodded. "Far be it from me to disagree with you Lady Guinevere. However, our remaining sleep will have to be delayed until the next eve. Théoden King has called upon our presence at the festivities."

Aragorn smiled with boyish charm at Guinevere as she weaved her way through the increasing crowd of men that were assembling inside the Golden Hall. She took up the proffered seat at the table next to him and raised her hand in a short wave to Éowyn who was filling a goblet with wine. She nodded to the person who handed her a similar goblet. Guinevere swirled the sherry red beverage, savouring its familiar scent as the liquid warmed her hands through the metal. She spared Aragorn a blushing smile before turning her gaze to Théoden who appeared to be ready to begin the festivities.

"This night is in memory of those who gave their blood to defend this country." He offered his goblet in a toast "Hail the victorious dead!" The people returned his call as they downed the wine eagerly. Guinevere had lifted her own but felt she could not stomach much of it, especially when it churned at the thought of all the dead corpses that she'd witnessed. She tentatively watched Aragorn who nodded to her soberly as he stared intensely into the red wine. He took a large swig and Guinevere pursued her lips, chancing a small sip.

Guinevere leant against one of the mighty pillars in the hall with her arms folded over her chest. The festivities were not morbid or sombre to say the least. The hall had transformed into a tavern in mere minutes. "I see you do not drink much." She turned to her companion and her lips upturned. "Not particularly…well not as much as the men it seems Éomer." He grinned at her with a handsome smile and his dark eyes lit up in amusement. They were a few hours into the festivities but already half of the occupants of the hall were intoxicated. Guinevere felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked over her shoulder to greet Legolas. "I see you have managed to find me amidst chaos." The elf nodded. Guinevere took the plate of dry bread that had been handed to her by Éomer and stole a piece off the silver serving ware. She tore off a piece rather raucously with her teeth and chewed on it as her attention was taken with Legolas and Éomer's conversation which had delved into the dark realms of alcohol.

"Do you drink much?" Legolas pondered Éomer's question for a split second before shrugging in his impossibly elegant elfish-way.

"No pauses…" Guinevere's eyes bulged comically as she almost choked on the bread which was stuffed down her throat. She looked between Legolas and Gimli. Legolas took the mug offered to him by Éomer and eyed it suspiciously. The lady next to him partially cringed as she observed Gimli. The dwarf was drunk beyond recognition but was still somewhat conscious. Until Gimli was unmoving on the floor in delirium, he would be downing beers like water. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Guinevere whispered to Legolas whilst watching a half-wasted Gimli as he threw back another mug. The golden liquid trickled into his beard as she returned her knowing look to Legolas. "…No spills." Éomer continued eyeing the elven prince.

"And no regurgitation!" Gimli hiccupped as he slammed the empty mug of his twenty-fifth beer onto the wood tabletop. "Fill i' up again." Éomer sceptically eyed the dwarf as he reached behind him for the wood barrel which was propped against the wall. He filled the mug and hesitantly handed it to Gimli.

"So…it's a drinking game?" Guinevere leant in Éomer's direction, "How strong is it?" The man behind them heartily chuckled thumping her heavily on the back. She lurched forward unsteadily at the sudden contact and scrunched up her nose. Éomer went to respond but she interrupted him "Actually, never mind. I don't want to know." Her thoughts then went to wondering how she would be able to drag Legolas or Gimli…or both to their chambers. Legolas was almost a head taller than her with lanky legs which provided her with no solution but she feared having to take Gimli more. The dwarf was easily shorter than her at four feet but weighed almost double her. She'd also heard that Gimli never slept without his axe…it was like a teddy bear, only sharper.

The men cheered lifting their mugs as Gimli stared at the elf with downright intent "Last one standing _wins_." Legolas narrowed his gaze as Gimli's rumbling laugh emerged once again before being drowned out by the consumption of beer. Legolas held his tankard to his face and sniffed it before tasting a little. The mug was lifted further as he downed the beverage like he would water or wine.

Guinevere saw a flash of blonde in the corner of her eye and peered instinctively at the figure. She saw Éowyn approached Aragorn warmly before greeting him. She turned away with a pout. It seemed that everyone was occupied at the present moment. She moved away from Legolas and Gimli's drinking game as she caught sight of Gandalf's pure white robes.

"Are you not having anything?" She asked the wizard quietly as she came to stand beside him. Gandalf the White had been keeping a watchful eye over the two young hobbits as they drank themselves into stupor.

Her companion did not reply; only granting her a broken smile. "What on your mind Gandalf? What's wrong?"

"Nothing to trouble yourself over, my dear." His tone was wistful as he spoke with carefully chosen words.

"Do not burden yourself with worries Gandalf. Frodo and Sam are safe and that is all that matters."

"There has been no word of our hobbits."

"But you cannot expect there to be any, Gandalf. Frodo and Sam are going to a place beyond our reach. They are headed to Mordor. Leave it be. Let fate fulfil its task. All will be well." She gave Gandalf a gentle smile. Her eyes were large and depthful but innocence shone in them like the clear of day.

_If only you knew…_ He thought to himself before both their attentions were taken elsewhere.

"_Oh you can search far and wide, you can drink the whole town dry…"_

Guinevere laughed as Merry and Pippin were situated on top of table singing in unison. Both had an arm around the other while their free hand held a tankard filled to the brim with frothing beer. Pippin waved vigorously to her with the beer in hand and his stare went momentarily to his sleeve which was now soaked in beer. Guinevere gave him a small wave in return as Merry slapped the back of Pippin's head.

"_But you'll never find a beer so brown, but you'll never find a beer so brown…"_

"They seem practised at this." Guinevere commented dryly with a raised eyebrow. Her eyes were fixed on the large hobbit feet which were dancing a jig on the tabletop spilling a tankard in the process.

"_As the one we drink in our hometown,_

_As the one we drink in our hometown._

_You can drink your fancy ales,_

_You can drink them by the flagon,_

_But the only brew for the brave and true…"_

Pippin met Gandalf's steely gaze until Merry nudged him with a rowdy jostle of the shoulder.

"_Comes from the Green Dragon!"_

And with that, both took large swigs from their mugs as they raced to finish their beverage. The raucous cheers of men followed from both ends of the hall; one for the young hobbits and the second for the drinking competition between Legolas and Gimli.

"Raar!" Gimli had lost his articulateness about ten minutes ago and now could only communicate with a half fogged brain and sound effects. Every so often he would slur some words though to Guinevere it appeared that the string of words were simply random words linked together. She approached them spritely. "It's the dwarves…that go swimming…with little, hairy women." Guinevere choked on her own amusement. Legolas, meanwhile greeted her quietly. "I feel something." He looked between Éomer and Guinevere as if waiting for justification, "A slight tingle in my fingers." Guinevere estimated thirty or so empty mugs before Legolas on the table. "Well, you're doing better than I would." She pointedly shrugged as Gimli slapped the table heavily. He leant forward in his chair and motioned as if to tell a secret. Guinevere leant in very slightly, "What did I say? He can't hold his liquor." Both her eyebrows flew up as the corner of her lips attempted to betray her enjoyment at the dwarf's antics. His eyes crossed and he went quiet for a moment. Then he suddenly keeled backwards and fell off his chair. "Game over." Legolas commented. Guinevere threw her hands up in dismay whilst Éomer smirked at her playfully "I am _not _carrying him back." She frowned.

Aragorn nodded absentmindedly to Éowyn whilst his gaze was still trained behind her. His eyes briefly met Éowyn's sparkling eyes and smiled at her before returning his gaze to his previous direction. When he found the object of his attentions, he could not tear his eyes from the sight before him. Guinevere attempted to stifle her giggles as she laughed upon something that Éomer had bluntly commented on. Both turned to eye a group of drunken men distastefully. She sipped delicately on the beverage in her goblet whilst in apparent agreement with her companion's opinion.

He felt his heart pang longingly as he observed her from afar. Confusion welled within him as he felt relieve at Guinevere's countenance. Though she seemed to be engaged in conversation, her eyes wandered restlessly. He willed her gaze toward his.

Guinevere felt at unease. Her eyes brushed fleetingly over the room trying to spot the man constantly plaguing her thoughts. She'd spotted him but mere minutes ago with Éowyn but again she'd lost him. She lamented that this entire evening she hadn't even been able to greet him save for the beginning. She murmured a quiet goodnight to Éomer who had finally decided to retire for the night. Guinevere turned her attention with renewed incentive to find her love. However, when she finally found him, Guinevere was rendered unable to move nor speak. Her lips curled up into a content smile as her gaze was captured by Aragorn.

She was the first to break eye contact. Aragorn watched as Guinevere tore her gaze frantically from him and shakily placed her goblet on a nearby table. She left the room. Panic immediately struck him as he barely managed to not follow her footsteps. He left Éowyn be as they were approached by her father and left to search for Guinevere.

"A grand celebration this eve Uncle." Éowyn smiled warmly at her uncle who was rather dishevelled for the occasion.

He nodded mutely before turning back to the bulk of men who were still enraptured with their beers.

"Is all well?" Éowyn asked concerned.

"All is as it should be Éowyn. There is no need to trouble yourself." Théoden sighed.

"Of course it is Uncle. Rohan won the battle."  
"But the war has not yet begun…well, perhaps for Rohan it has not. But a shadow looms over this victory. With it, will come great strife. The greatest war of our time. Good and evil will remain at either side of the battlefield and blood will be shed. Rivers were turn red with blood. The Battle of Helm's Deep was the beginning but I fear how it will end."

"You brought us to safety Uncle. There is no more that you can do." Éowyn comforted him.

"Yet, that is my even greater fear." Théoden went quiet, trying to find the words that were failing him. "It was not Théoden of Rohan that led our men to victory."

Éowyn could not reply as she too was lost for words.

Legolas grunted in an un-elfish like manner as he heaved the four foot dwarf into his camp roll on the ground. He stumbled elegantly- something only possible by the elf race- and managed to not drop the drunken dwarf as he snored into oblivion. He glared at Gimli but his friend only have a large snort in reply. Gimli muttered something in his sleep before raising his voice. "Eh! Ye'll give me some o' that pork. Oh! And the sausages te'. And one large bread roll. But wh't 'bout the tea?" Legolas chuckled under her breath as he exited the room deftly.

Guinevere stood on the stood on the stone paving before the Golden Hall. She looked into the thick of the night, mesmerized by moonbeams that illuminated that penetrated the blanket of darkness that had fallen upon them. She felt Aragorn's presence behind her but feigned ignorance to his arrival.

"It has grown dark."

Guinevere smiled internally knowing that the man behind her had cringed as he spoke those words. It was evident that night was falling. "Mmm…it feels different this evening. Don't you think?" She had a chilling sensation run up her spine as she spoke. "Do you ever wonder what is beyond those mountains?"

Aragorn chuckled mirthlessly "When I was younger, I spent many years marvelling at the vastness of Middle Earth. Now I find that as time has gone by, I desire to less and less of it."

"Really?" Guinevere's brow knitted as she pondered his cryptic words.

"There is…perhaps one place that I long to see but far be it from my fate to ever lay eyes on it again."

"And what is it?"

"Minas Tirirth."

"Again? Have you seen it before?"

Aragorn nodded "Once. A long time ago. I don't recall much except the exquisite city itself. So radiant, so pure. Those white walls hold the lives of many. I pray that they continue to do so."  
"Are you worried that the war will destroy Minas Tirith?"

The strangled noise that escaped Aragorn's throat told Guinevere that she was correct in her analysis.

He moved to stand beside her and she lay her head on his arm. "You really take too much on yourself." She smiled with her eyes fluttering shut as he craned his neck to eye her confused. "Leave it be. If Minas Tirith is meant to fall, it will. All we can do is what we deem right in the present."

Guinevere failed in her attempt to stifle a yawn and Aragorn gently pulled away before taking her by the shoulders. "You had better get some sleep."

She nodded with another yawn. "I think so too. I'll see you in the morning?"  
Aragorn smiled as she cutely stared back at him with pouted lips and a furrowed brow no doubt both were from a lack of sleep recently. She shared his grin blushingly before turning away in the direction of her chambers.

Even a few hours later Guinevere found that the winds outside had stolen her sleep. She turned restlessly in her bed as the sheets coiled around her. Heat that radiated from her body suddenly began to suffocate her. She frantically pushed off the sheets wincing at the stiffness in her muscles as she sat up in the bed. She chanced a fleeting glance at the reflection in the mirror.

The ethereal lady who stared back at her, though illuminated by the dusky moonlight, was shadowed. Her haggard visage acted like a cloak to hide the agitation which welled in her heart. She willed the ashen lady away with an intense stare but all it did was startle her even further.

Guinevere regained her senses as her attention was captured by a barest glistening in the eventide. The palette of hues in the sky faded before her eyes until only darkness prevailed. Guinevere felt sleep take her as she rested her head upon the soft pillow and lulled herself to the world of dreams.

"There is something foul in the air. I can feel it." Legolas murmured unresponsively. His mischievous ice blue orbs had blackened and all traces of the evening's festivities were drained from his face. Legolas' eyes looked beyond Aragorn's only vision but he felt his friend's intent gaze boring a hole in the landscape which he assessed with great terror. His mien was hidden by his olive cloak which was drawn over his head mysteriously. The night had not grown so cold as for Legolas to require donning his cloak but Aragorn felt it was more for security than anything else.

After Guinevere leaving him rather abruptly but with an air of content, Aragorn had continued to remain on the parapet. He'd drawn out his pipe and it had kept him company until Legolas had happened upon him.

Both Aragorn and Legolas were severely at unease but little did they know the worst was yet to pass and it had now arrived upon their doorstep…

* * *

Genre: Adventure/Romance/Humour

Pairings: Aragorn & Other Female Character

Other Notes: (1) I thought I might mention that the two categories above (Genre/Pairings) are subject to change with the chapter. Genre applies to the above chapter and the pairings apply to the entire story. Sorry if this is a little bit confusing. (2) Since I'm following the story, I knew the moment I found it that the drinking game had to added into the story. It is such a lighthearted piece that really shows Gimli's dwarf-qualities a great deal more than is let on in the entire film trilogy. Hope you liked it.

**Okay, everyone. So wish me luck and I really do wish from the bottom of my heart that you are still enjoying my writing as from before. Thank you all my readers- it is amazing to have such support in writing this story. Virtual hugs to my reviewers because you're the ones that always help improve both my writing and my confidence as an author. Once again, apologies if there is not a full chapter up next Friday. If I cannot update fully, I will leave a short excerpt until I can post the entire chapter. Please leave reviews and thank you all. Satiné**


	18. Chapter 17: Preview & Author's Note

**Hi everyone. So I did mention that I might not be able to update today and as it turns out, I can't. I didn't want to leave you empty-handed so I'd previewed what would have been this chapter. Keep an eye out during the next couple of days; the new chapter will be up before next update day. Remember, reviews always help! Surprisingly, the more reviews I get, the faster I can write- ironic isn't it? Sorry once again guys; I hope you don't hate me for this. Please read & review and I'll do my best to update ASAP. Satin****é xx**

******Imamc: Oh yeah...you can _definitely _say that again.**

******Guest: Thank you for the review and sorry about only the preview. Hang in there. Full chapter will be up soon. **

Preview for Chapter 18: The Shuddering Banner

_Saruman watched in horror as he stood atop the Tower of Orthanc. The army of gigantic trees had stormed Isengard and his life's work was being destroyed. His fighting Uruk-hai threw blazing torches at the new arrivals as well as trapping them beneath sturdy ropes but the Ents were too many. Smouldering flames did not deter them but rather their vengeance was their greatest shield; one that no weapon could penetrate. _

_The wizard scrambled back and turned to the stairwell below. He staggered down the stairs with grief seeping into his frozen heart. His ice cold fingers unlocked the double-doors of the Throne Chamber. His infatuation with power had corrupted him. His gaze was almost compelled to the black frosted globe perched on top of the pedestal in the centre of the room. The Palantír. Saruman knew that it was what Gandalf would seek when he arrived at Isengard. He shuffled to the centrepiece with his white robes swirling about his feet._

_He ghosted his shrivelled fingers over the clouded glass. He reached out for his staff. The black marble was engraved with elaborate markings and a snow white rondure was encased between four black spikes which tangled above it. He shut the doors behind him and turned his attention to the Palantír before him. _

_Saruman's fingers curled in resentment as he watched Isengard be flooded. He held the Palantír in both his hands staring below at the spikes which were now dampened from the root by frothy waters. It pained him greatly, so greatly that perhaps he would not fulfil this final task but nevertheless Saruman's greed and revenge overpowered him. His withdrawn gaze followed the Palantír as it sailed to the ground before being swallowed within the depths of the water. He had done it. Now all that was left was for Gandalf the Grey to find it. _

She was drenched as she bolted upright. Beads of sweat ran down her temple and pooled on the white sheets which were twisted around her figure. She felt for her cheeks which were dampened with streaks of tears. Her eyes searched frantically for help, for the comfort that there would be someone to share her burden, to calm the raging storm that brewed within her scarred heart but all that she saw was dancing shadows and moonlight shining through the window onto the vanity. The haggard sight in the mirror frightened her immensely but what followed was even more torturous.

The image of herself in the mirror morphed into her vision. She felt trapped by her own demons and her own fright. She stared wide-eyed at the burning fields, the darkness that spread like a plague over Middle Earth; screams of mercy resonated in her ears, ringing like large chimes. They rung so loud that no matter what she tried she could not escape them. She felt like a knife had been slowly stabbed into her heart and it twisted every time she reheard the cries. She was drowning in her own fear and there was no one who would save her.

**Like I said earlier, this is only a little unedited preview of the chapter. Once again, a HUGE sorry to all my lovely readers. I promise I won't leave you hanging. This chapter is almost half written so it will be up in a few days. Until then please be kind enough to leave reviews- I can't tell you how much they mean to me. ****Satin****é xx**


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